by Lexi George
“He’s got that floozy with him again.” Bitsy pointed at the thrall. “What’s that she’s wearing, a bunch of string?”
“I think it’s supposed to be a dress,” Addy said.
“It’s indecent, that’s what it is. Shep is having some sort of crisis. I’m going to have a talk with him.”
The chief rose and took her gently by the arm. “Shep’s a grown man, Hibiscus. He don’t need his mama running his life.”
“But—”
“No buts, Little Bit. Leave him alone.”
Bitsy was still huffing and puffing like a calliope when a blue Jeep Cherokee with the word SHERIFF emblazoned in big silver letters on the side pulled up to the curb and parked behind Chief Davis’s patrol car.
“It’s somebody from the sheriff’s department.” Addy set her lemonade down on the bench and got to her feet. “Reckon what they want?”
A tall, broad-shouldered man wearing mirrored Ray-Bans got out of the SUV and looked around. He spotted the chief under the tree and started toward them, moving with a rangy grace that had female heads bobbing up and down like a colony of meerkats.
Brand strode over to stand next to the chief. “You know this man?” he asked.
“Sure, that’s Dev Whitsun, the new sheriff.” The chief grunted. “Wonder what he wants.”
Bitsy gave the man approaching them a squinty-eyed stare. “That’s the new sheriff?”
Uh oh. Addy knew that look. Mama was matchmaking again, looking for a back-up in case things didn’t work out with Brand. Mama was all about the Plan B.
Bitsy sidled up to her. “He’s a real nice-looking man, isn’t he? According to Jeannine down at the Kut ’N’ Kurl, he’s single. He’s got a steady job . . . for the next four years, anyway. And the county gives good benefits. Sick leave and health insurance and a nice retirement package.”
“Forget it, Mama.”
“But don’t you think he’s handsome?”
“Yeah, but I’m not interested.”
“I declare, Adara Jean, you are too picky. That sheriff is a real catch. If you two got married you could stay here, not run off to Europe with Mr. Dalvahni.”
Europe? Oh, good grief. Mama thought Brand was European. Okay, so maybe that was the teensy weeniest bit her fault, but what choice did she have? She could hardly tell Mama her new boyfriend was not from Earth. But, Mama thought Brand would take Addy away, and that was not a good thing. Mama Hen liked her chickens close to the nest.
Right now she seemed to have her heart set on fixing Addy up with the sheriff. Mama was as tenacious as a badger. If she latched her jaws around a bachelor morsel by the name of Dev Whitsun, neither man nor God could tear her loose.
“I don’t care how hot the guy is, Mama,” Addy said. “I love Brand.”
Oh, crap, she said the “L” word. For days, she’d held it in. But the damn thing slipped out anyway. Maybe it was like that “F” word Mama had been sitting on all these years. Lurking on the back of her tongue, waiting for the right moment, and then—bam!—springing forth like a dog freed from a kennel.
Love.
Man, she was so going to get her heart busted all to pieces.
Bitsy sighed. “I was afraid of that. Have you told him?”
“No.”
“Adara Jean! What are you waiting for, a sign from the Lord God Almighty? If you love the man, you ought to tell him.”
“I know, I know. I’m going to. Things have been crazy.”
Sheriff Whitsun walked up and shook the chief’s hand. He looked Brand up and down, his eyes unreadable behind the mirrored sunglasses. Chief Davis introduced Brand to the sheriff. The sheriff said something in a low voice to the chief. Addy edged nearer. Mama scooted closer, too.
“—warn you,” Sheriff Whitsun was saying. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I thought you’d want to know.”
He glanced at Addy and Bitsy and muttered something in the chief’s ear. Brand’s lips thinned. Whatever the sheriff said, Brand didn’t like it.
“Thanks, Dev,” Chief Davis said. “I appreciate the heads-up. You need any help, you let me know.”
“I’ll do that,” Sheriff Whitsun said. “The news has gone out over the wire. The State Troopers are on the lookout, and the sheriff’s departments in Monroe and Escambia counties have sent men. We’ll catch the sum bitches.” His head turned in their direction, his eyes hidden behind the Ray-Bans. “Excuse my French, ladies.”
Bitsy gave him a sugary smile. “That’s quite all right, Sheriff.”
With a curt nod, he walked back to his Jeep, climbed in, and drove off.
Bitsy gave Addy a sideways glance. “Easy on the eyes and smells like heaven, too. Sure you don’t want to change your mind, Addy?”
“Positive.”
Bitsy shrugged. “Oh, well. What did the sheriff want, Car-lee?”
The chief pushed his hat back. “Been a prison break. Six convicts busted out of Newsome Correctional Facility last night. Killed three guards in the process. Soon as they got out, they robbed a convenience store over by Jordan’s Crossing. Killed the owner and two customers. Dev said the place looked like somebody butchered a hog. Forensics guys are having a hard time identifying the bodies.”
Bitsy gasped. “Oh, my goodness, how horrible! What if those terrible men come to Hannah?”
The chief put his arm around Bitsy. “Relax, Hibiscus. That scum is a hundred miles away from here by now.”
Dan Curtis barreled around the square in Muddy’s convertible and screeched to a stop.
Muddy sat up and straightened her hat. “Yi-ha, ride ’em cowboy,” she yelled into the megaphone.
Dan Curtis leaped out of the convertible and loped across the grass.
Chief Davis watched him approach, his expression sour. “What’s that damn fool up to now?”
Officer Dan’s eyes were alight with excitement. “Alarm’s going off at the First National Bank, Chief. Probably a squirrel in the wiring again, but I thought I’d better tell you.”
“God almighty.” The chief threw his hat on the ground. “If this ain’t the damndest town. Wandering statues and burgling squirrels.” He picked up his hat and jammed it back on his head. “Well, don’t stand there, Officer Curtis. Let’s go arrest some rodents.”
Muddy climbed out of the convertible. She was wearing purple high-top Converse tennis shoes that matched her purple skirt and silk blouse. “I’m coming with you. I always wanted to ride in a police car.”
Officer Dan adjusted his gun holster. “You can’t come, Miss Muddy. This here is official police business.”
His officer-of-the-law persona would have been a lot more impressive without the big purple hat.
“Oh, let her come along.” The chief shook a warning finger at Muddy. “But you’re staying in the car while we check this bank thing out, understood?”
“Ten-four,” Muddy shouted into the megaphone.
“God almighty,” the chief said again.
They jumped in the chief’s patrol car, Muddy in the back, and sped off.
Bitsy sighed. “Oh, dear, I do hope they’ll be all right. You know how Muddy is.”
“They’ll be fine, Mama,” Addy said. “Like the chief said, it’s a bunch of squirrels. You know nothing exciting happens around here.”
What was she saying? That might have been true five days ago, but it sure as shoot wasn’t true anymore. Sleepy, boring little Hannah had turned out to be a sinkhole of weirdness.
As if the cosmos were attuned to her thoughts, she heard a low rumble from the direction of the river. The sound was too steady to be thunder. It grew louder, coalescing into the excited murmuring of many voices.
The white stag trotted up the broad, azalea-lined steps that went from the park down to the river, Hannah’s version of the Spanish Steps in Rome. The stag’s antlers shone in the sun. A mob of exultant, shouting people came up the stairs behind him. The men in the horde, and a few of the women, too, looked wild eyed and feverish. Ad
dy knew that look: hunting fever. Screw the fact this deer was one-of-a-kind in its magnificence; didn’t matter. It had silver antlers and glowed like a nuclear reactor; didn’t matter. Deer season was long past. That didn’t matter, either. The granddaddy of all deer was in Hannah, and every bubba and bubbette with a gun or a hunting bow wanted to shoot that sucker and hang it on a wall.
The stag loped across the park. Vendors abandoned their booths, and the festivalgoers in the square flowed into the horde as it passed, thickening the crowd that followed the snowy deer.
“Holy freaking shit, it’s an albino elk,” Shep yelled. He leaped out of the coffin car. “That thing’s the size of a baby elephant. Where the hell’s my gun? Look at the rack on that bad boy!” He waved his arm at a man in a ball cap. “Jimmy Lee, you got your gun in your truck?”
“Hell yeah, I got it.”
“Let me borrow it.”
“Get your own friggin’ gun, Shep. This baby’s all mine. Have you ever seen such a beaut in all your born days?”
“Shit,” Shep said. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Bitsy flew up to him, an avenging fury. “William Shepton Corwin, you watch your language.”
Do as I say, not as I do. It was Jim-Dandy-fine for Mama to say a wordy-dird in public, but that didn’t mean her kids were allowed. Mama needn’t have worried. No one was paying Shep any mind. People scattered up and down Main Street in a mad dash for their vehicles and their firepower. Those folks that didn’t hunt trailed behind the glowing stag in a ragged line, a look of stupefied amazement on their faces. It was better than an Elvis sighting. The stag seemed unfazed by all the commotion. He pranced across the grass, leading the clamor of people in a weaving circle through the little park.
The air shimmered, and Ansgar materialized in the square with Evie in his arms. Bitsy was too busy chewing on Shep and shaking her finger in Lenora’s direction to notice. How ’bout that? Shep was on Mama’s list for a change. Addy had been on that list for the better part of twenty-seven years. She should be relieved. Instead, she felt sort of funny and confused and a little left out.
Ansgar set Evie on her feet.
Evie grinned and fluttered her hand in Addy’s direction. “Hey, Adds.”
“Hey yourself,” Addy said.
Ansgar took Evie by the hand and dragged her over to Brand. Huh. Mr. Personality was acting like more of a butthead than usual. Something was up.
Giving Mama and Shep a last worried glance, Addy hurried after them.
“—meaning of one of the Lester in this realm,” she heard Ansgar say as she walked up. “There is more here than meets the eye. Conall should be apprised.”
Conall again. He must be like the big cheese among the Dalvahni.
“Who’s Lester?” she asked.
Ansgar looked down his nose at her. “I said ‘Lesser,’ not ‘Lester.’ ”
Ooh, she hated that disdainful “you are such a big stupid head” tone of his. It made her want to bop him upside the head with something a whole lot harder than a MoonPie. A two-by-four, for instance, or maybe a ball-peen hammer.
She scowled at him. “Pull the stick outcha butt, Blondy. Who’s this Lesser guy, another Dalvahni?”
“Gently, little one,” Brand said, taking her hand in his. “Ansgar refers to the celestial being in our midst, one of the Lesser gods of Gorth.”
Addy blinked at him. “Say what?”
“The stag leading yon town folk such a merry dance is a forest deity.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
His expression grew distant. “Ah, you are asking if I jest. I assure you, I am not. From your expression of disbelief, I take it you do not practice polytheism?”
“This is Alabama. We got two religions. God and football.”
“Levity again.”
“Dude, around here we don’t joke about football. So Malibu Bambi over there is a god?”
“Yes, but his name is Sildhjort, not Bambi.”
“That’s a terrible name. Was his mama mad at him or something? I’ll call him Sid instead.” She rolled the name around on her tongue. “Yeah, Sid. Way better than Sildhjort.”
His lips twitched. “Perhaps you should tell him that, although I do not think this is the proper time.”
The stag skimmed across the grass on weightless silver hooves, a bevy of ecstatic people in his slipstream.
“So, what’s Sid doing in Hannah?”
“I am not certain,” Brand said. “His presence is most unexpected.”
“You can say that again. Some people would be having a religious crisis right now trying to square old Sid with their concept of God and the universe. But here’s the way I see it. God is the creator, right? That’s what He does. I always figured He didn’t stop with us. How boring would that be? And God is anything but boring. So He made us and this world and many more besides and filled them with all kind of fantastic, wonderful creatures. Things I can’t even imagine. And He made Sid over there, and gave him some cool powers and made him immortal, but he’s still a child of God like you and me.”
“Very wise, little one. You constantly surprise me,” Brand said.
“Yeah, I’m a stone hoot.”
They watched the stag make a final turn around the park and canter over the hill. People swarmed after him, and the little square emptied. Shep, Lenora, Pootie, and Bitsy were swept up by the multitude and washed down Main Street with the rest of the crowd. Addy ran across the park and looked down the hill. Jimmy Lee Butler was parked in front of the drug store. He dove inside his truck, emerging a moment later with his deer rifle in hand.
“Whoo hoo, I got mine,” he shouted, brandishing his weapon in the air.
“Me, too,” Taz Phillips hollered, waving his shotgun from the truck next to Jimmy Lee’s.
Thunk, thunk, thunk. Up and down Main Street, truck doors slammed as men and women retrieved their weapons from their vehicles and ran after the prancing stag. Addy could almost hear the collective cha chung as weapons were checked and loaded. People from the arts and crafts booths down by the river heard the shouting and came up to see what all the commotion was about, further swelling the crowd. Addy thought she spotted Mr. Collier waving his contrabulator around in all the chaos. In a matter of moments, Main Street was clogged with a mass of people in pursuit of the white stag.
Addy ran back over to Brand. “You better do something quick. The bubbas are armed to the teeth down there. I think they mean to kill Sid.”
“Do not be distressed, Adara. They cannot harm him. He is a god. He plays with the humans, though to what end I cannot say.” He turned to Ansgar. “Do you not agree, brother?”
“I believe I can guess his intent,” Ansgar said. He pointed to the press of humanity pouring down Main Street toward the northeast. “He is leading them to safety across the river bridge.”
“Leading them to safety from what?” Addy asked.
A low, throbbing boom came from the hills that surrounded the town. Addy’s heart lurched out of rhythm with a sickening thud. The sound vibrated against her skin and thrummed in her ears, menacing and terrifying, the single, steady heartbeat of an unseen monster beating out a death knell on an enormous drum.
She clutched Brand’s arm. “What in God’s name is that?”
Ansgar gave her the big stupid-head look again.
“You mean, you do not know?” He arched a blond brow at her. “The demons are coming.”
Chapter Thirty-four
Boom, boom, boom. The drums sounded again, harsh and hollow, a ravenous giant promising bloody retribution. Fe-fi-fo-fum. The drumbeat pulsed inside Addy’s head. I’ll grind your bones to make me bread.
The relentless pounding drew closer, the jaws of the trap tightening around them. The demons were almost upon them, closing in on all sides. Taking their time and playing with their food.
Boom, boom, boom.
Drums in the deep. We cannot get out. Balin’s anguished words from the belly of Moria echoed in her mind
.
Like Balin and his kinfolk, they were doomed. The goblins were coming. There would be no escape.
Addy’s heart thudded with terror. She wanted to scream, to run blindly down the steps, and jump into the river. It was hopeless though. She could not run, could not reach the river in time. They were hemmed in on all sides by the ceaseless thunder of the drums, trapped like rats in a rain barrel.
Besides, she wouldn’t leave Brand and Evie. Heck, she wouldn’t even leave Blondy to face the demons alone.
Not that she could do much more than give moral support. What did she know about fighting demons?
The world tilted sideways as Brand lifted her in his arms. “Do not be afraid, little one,” he said, striding across the grass. “The demons will not harm you. I will not allow it.”
“What’s the big idea? Put me down.”
He dumped her under the big sweet gum tree and stepped back. Ansgar stomped up with Evie in tow. He gave her a little shove and stalked over to stand next to Brand. Brand pointed, and a glowing circle appeared around the tree; a protective spell to keep her and Evie safe. How sweet. Her heart began to race. Being confined made her feel hot and woozy and panicky. Hadn’t she told the big lug she was claustrophobic?
Metal flashed in the sunlight as Brand drew a wicked-looking knife from his boot.
She eyed the weapon uncertainly. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping you safe.”
He swiped the knife across his palm.
She gasped. “Brand, your hand! Are you crazy?”
“I do not believe so. But no doubt your question was rhetorical and you do not, in reality, question my sanity. Do not worry about my hand. It is nothing.”
He turned his palm over and dripped blood onto the ground. It was like adding grease to a fire. The spell line flared brighter. When he lifted his hand, the deep cut was gone. He handed the knife to Ansgar. Without a word, Ansgar slashed his hand and added his blood to the pulsing ring of light. The gash on his hand quickly closed and faded. He wiped the blade clean and handed the knife back to Brand. Brand slid the weapon back in his boot.