A Demonic Bundle (91 page)

Authors: Lexi George Kathy Love,Angie Fox

BOOK: A Demonic Bundle

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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

B
oom, 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.

“It’s gone.” Addy stared in bemusement at Brand’s hand. “The cut on your hand is gone.”

Ansgar gave her that “my poop don’t stink but yours sure does” look she was
so
crazy about. “Foolish woman. The Dalvahni heal quickly. Do you not know that?”

That did it. She was going to read his beads for whale shit. She opened her mouth to tell him where to stick his condescending attitude, but Brand spoke first.

“She knows, brother. She is having trouble accepting it. That is all.”

Evie put her arm around Addy’s shoulder. “There’s no need to be so stuffy, Ansgar. Addy has had a lot to deal with lately.
I
think she’s handled things remarkably well, considering all that has happened. You’ve had ten thousand years to get used to who and what you are. Maybe you should spend the next ten thousand years developing a little patience.”

Whoa, did shy little Evie just give Ansgar a verbal smackdown?

To Addy’s surprise, Ansgar bowed. “You are right, Evangeline. Adara, I regret my impatience with you. Please accept my apology.”

“Sure thing, Blondy.” Evie poked her in the side with her elbow. For a curvaceous gal, girlfriend’s elbows were
sharp
. “Ouch, I mean Ansgar.”

“Enough,” Brand said. “They are coming. It is time.”

Addy glanced at him, startled by his sharp tone, and received a shock. Brand’s eyes were hard and flat. He radiated a combination of lethal eagerness and raw, primal power. Ansgar exuded the same restless, coiled energy. They were in warrior mode, she realized with a stab of dismay, two predators on the hunt,
eager
for the hunt. But, there was no
need
for them to do the macho warrior thing. Not when there was an alternative.

They turned to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?” Addy cried. “Stay here, where it’s safe.”

Brand turned around, his expression of chilly hauteur reminding her uncomfortably of Ansgar’s. “Dalvahni warriors do not cower behind a shield spell like frightened children. Fighting the djegrali is what we do.”

Oh, great. She’d insulted his masculinity. Heaven forbid they do the sensible thing and get inside the shield. Oh, no. The big bad Dalvahni warriors had to take on a bunch of crazed, bloodthirsty, soul-sucking demons.

Fighting the djegrali is what we do.
Ooh, he was infuriating, the big, macho jerk. Who knew how many demons were out there or what twisted form they would take? Sure, he and Ansgar were seasoned warriors, but what if they were outnumbered? What if Mr. Nasty brought reinforcements? No one was infallible. What if Brand got hurt . . . or . . . or . . .

Terror streaked through her, mind numbing, petrifying. Terror for
him
. And did he care? Oh, no. He was an adrenaline junky, hooked on a djegrali fix, chomping at the bit to kick a little demon boo-tay. He was going to go out there and fight the demons
right in front of her,
and he expected her to sit in a safe little bubble and watch like a good little woman. No. She did not think so.

Suddenly, she was furious.

She slammed the flat of her hand against the invisible wall. “Well, excuse the hell out of me for being worried you might get hurt. Go ahead then. Get yourself killed. See if I care.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes and was gone. He shrugged and strode after Ansgar.

Addy flung herself against the shield. “Wait, Brand, I didn’t mean it! I do care. I—I . . .”

She stopped. Her throat closed up, and the words shriveled on her tongue. What was the matter with her? It was like her brain and her mouth were disconnected. She could not say it. Neither could she let him go like this, facing death with her hateful words ringing in his ears.

Tears of frustration streamed down her face. She pounded her fists against the shield. “Brand, come back. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.
Brand.
”

He heard her. He must have heard her, because he came back. She watched him stride across the grass, her heart hammering in her chest. The way he moved was a thing of beauty, lithe, fluid, powerful—the heavy muscular grace of a predator in his prime. She loved the way he moved. She loved everything about him. She loved
him.

He stopped a few paces from the tree, his beautiful archangel features strained and taut, as though he were in the grip of some ferocious inner battle. He took a deep breath. She shrank back instinctively, knowing what was coming. She forgot about the demons, watching with helpless longing and dread as his wicked, beautiful, sensuous mouth curved into a rueful smile. He was going to say it. He tried to tell her last night more than once, but each time she stopped him. It was right there in his eyes, in the hot, aching melting way he looked at her. He loved her. He was going to say it and walk into danger, and leave her with an agony of bitter regret because she was too big a coward to say it back.

Like hell she was.

“I love you, Brand,” she blurted.

A terrible weight lifted from her heart with the words. What a relief it was to say it, how easy and
right
it felt. I love you. She wanted—no,
needed
—to say it. What an idiot she had been. She loved him. And he loved her . . . although he hadn’t said it yet.

He stared at her like she was some strange, exotic animal, this man from another dimension who’d seen dwithmorgers and fought demons in the far reaches of Gorth.

“What did you say?”

She gave him a giddy grin. “I said ‘I love you.’ What do you think about that?”

Thwack!
He grinned back and she was a goner, high as a kite from that smile.

“I think you are the most infuriating, impossible, maddening female I ever met.” His eyes were alight with amusement and enough love to burn her to cinders. “I have been trying to tell you of my damnable
feelings
since last night, would you but let me. But you defeated me at every turn. You are the most exasperating creature.”

“Those things you said, maddening, impossible, infuriating and . . . uh . . . uh . . .”

“Exasperating?”

“Yeah, that’s the one, exasperating. Those are good things, right?”

He chuckled and turned again to leave.

“Hey!” She pounded her fists against the shield. “You can’t walk away without saying it back. That would be rude.”

“Heaven forbid,” he said without slowing.

“I mean it, Brand.
Brand.
”

He looked back at her then, his gaze hot enough to melt stone. “Very well, if you insist. I love you, Adara Jean Corwin. You have taken my heart by storm. Satisfied?”

“No, but it’ll do for now.”

Swallowing the lump of tears in her throat, she watched him stride off to join Ansgar near the center of the park. The drums throbbed closer, louder. It sounded as though the demons had reached the foot of the hill. Any moment they would come over the rise and the battle would begin. Brand could be . . . Brand could be . . .

Brand and Ansgar drew their weapons. Liquid tongues of flame danced down the blade in Brand’s hand, and the silver and white bow Ansgar held shone with an unearthly light.

Beside her, Evie made a small sound of dismay. Addy felt a twinge of remorse. She’d been so wrapped up in Brand that she forgot all about Evie. She hurried over to her friend. Evie clung to her, staring in wide-eyed horror across the field.

“Look,” Evie cried, pointing.

Two men came up the rise on Main Street dressed in prison whites. Addy recognized the uniforms. Work gangs were a common enough sight on the highway that ran between Hannah and Jordan Springs, where the state penitentiary was located. These men were some of the escaped convicts the sheriff warned them about. If she hadn’t known them by their garb, the words
PROPERTY OF THE ALABAMA DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS
stamped in big black letters on their loose cotton pants and shirts were a big, fat clue. They looked like ordinary men, not demons. No twisted horns or gnarled limbs or bristling, tusk-filled mouths. Except for the gooey purple eyes that wobbled above their snarling mouths like bits of jelly left out in the sun and the blood that stained their clothes and the severed human heads they carried, they looked like ordinary men.

They saw Ansgar and Brand and swung their gruesome trophies. The heads slammed together with a dull boom.
Fe fi fo fum.
The hollow sound made Addy want to cover her ears and scream in mindless terror. It vibrated against her skin and rattled her bones, dark music from the bowels of hell. This was demon magic, she realized dimly, through her fright. It stripped the mind of reason and replaced it with stark, primitive fear, fear of the boogie man and the thing under the bed and the horror of the unknown.

Boom, boom, boom.
She whirled around. Two more convicts entered the park from the south. Each held a severed human head. Three prison guards had been killed in the breakout, the sheriff said. And a store owner and two customers at Jordan’s Crossing.
Boom
and
boom
again. The last two escaped prisoners came, one from the east and one from the west, ghoulish plunder in hand. Addy counted. Six heads, six victims.
Boom, boom, boom.
The convicts thumped the heads with their fists, sounding their dreadful song. The ground boiled, and a cloud of insects rose in the air, bringing with them the smell of wet earth and moldering leaves, rotting bugs, and worms and other small creatures. The damp, musty stench penetrated the shield, filling Addy’s nostrils and mouth with the smell and taste of detritus and decay.

She coughed and spit to get the taste of death out of her mouth. “Brand’s spell might work on demons, but it sure doesn’t work on stink.”

Evie was red faced from holding her breath.

Addy pounded her on the back. “Breathe, Eves. Spit it out before you choke on it.”

Evie sucked in a lung full of air and coughed. “La . . . dies don’t spit,” she said with a gasp. “Bitsy says.”

“They do if they got bug funk in their throats.”

The black column of insects swirled in a dizzying pattern over the convicts’ heads and settled back down, covering everything in a blanket of tiny, moving bodies. Evie screamed as the shield was enveloped by thousands of roaches, stinkbugs, beetles, and other winged insects.

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