Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb (19 page)

“Hey.” Evan smacked the back of Sassy's headrest. “What's the big idea?”

“Sorry.” Sassy took a steadying breath. “There was something in the road.”

“Yeah, a big-ass truck,” Evan said. “I could count the freckles on that bubba's schnoz.”

“Are you always so excitable?” Taryn asked. “You bleat like a goat at the slightest thing.”

Taryn's comment went over like a stripper at a Mennonite church meeting. A heated discussion ensued—on Evan's part, anyway. Sassy doubted a nuclear furnace could ignite Taryn. Folding her hands in her lap, the huntress listened to Evan fuss and fume, her lovely lips curved in the slightest of smiles. Jiminy, was there a sense of humor buried under those layers of ice?

Sassy glanced at Grim. His russet hair stirred in the breeze. He stared out at the woods, his sculpted profile impassive. Jeez Louise, he was a total babe.

A slight frown line belied his seeming calm. Poor little demon hunter; according to Dell, Grim had lived in seclusion for years—
centuries.
And now he was dealing with this.

Talk about shock therapy.

She punched a button. Music poured through the back speakers and muffled Evan's yammering.

“Sorry about that,” Sassy said to Grim. “I know your nerves must be seriously worked.”

“Why do you apologize?” Grim did not turn his head. “My happiness or unhappiness is not your burden.”

“Of course it is,” Sassy said. “Making people happy is what I do.”

It was true. If she had a talent, it was affability. She was a people pleaser on crack, the cheerful cleric of conviviality.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sassy saw him turn his head. He was studying her in that serious, intent way of his. His gaze sent a wave of heat through her, like a physical touch.

She liked it. She liked it a lot, and she wanted more. Marshmallows, she was rapidly becoming a Grim junkie.

“And in order to do that, you must suppress your own desires,” Grim said, “subdue any less-than-ebullient emotion, else you have no value?”

Sassy kneaded the steering wheel. “When you put it like that, it sounds awful. Pathetic, even.”

He shrugged. “Change. The choice is yours.”

“It's not that easy. People expect it of me. It's why they
like
me.”

“Is the approval of others so important to you?”

“I like making people happy. I'm good at it.”

“You are a blithe spirit, Sassy Peterson, but your measure is far greater than your gift for cheer.”

“You've got a lot of room to talk. You've got worlds of potential. You can do magic, for Pete's sake. But Dell says you're obsessed with killing demons. Dell says you have sex to get rid of any pesky little feelings that might interfere with your precious hunt.”

“I do not know this Dell, nor does he know me.”

“Of course you know Dell. He's the Provider.”

“
What?
” Grim's voice rose. “You renamed the Provider? This time you go too far.”

“There's no need to shout. I didn't rename him. It was Dell's idea, and I agreed. ‘Provider' is a terrible name.”

“The Provider is an apt designation for an information source.”

“It's cold and impersonal. People give more thought to naming their dogs.”

“I am not ‘people.' And a dog is a living, breathing creature. The Provider is not.”

“Shame on you, Grim Dalvahni. I expected you to be more open-minded.”

“And I expected you to refrain from meddling in things you should not. It would seem we are both doomed to disappointment.”

“Mother-of-pearl. Sometimes you are so stuffy. We'll continue this discussion over lunch.”

“Luncheon? I assumed you would be leaving as soon as you spoke to the lawyer.”

“A girl has to eat,” Sassy said. “I've always wanted to check out the Sweet Shop Café. They print the weekly menus in the paper. The food sounds Southern scrumptious.” She shook her finger at him. “But don't think for a second that we're finished with the subject of Dell. I'm not giving up on this.”

Grim heaved a sigh of resignation. “I never for a moment thought you would.”

T
he motorized carriage hummed through the green tunnel of trees lining the road. The woods in this region were much to Grim's liking. Lush growth teemed with wildlife. His peculiar ability told him the thick timber concealed a wealth of creatures: rabbits; a pack of jackal-like canids with long, slender legs, pointy ears, and narrow muzzles; numerous species of birds and rodents; an abundance of deer; and several colonies of leather-winged bats. Reptiles slithered through the vegetation. Feral swine nosed their way through dense underbrush.

Near the river, a lone bear rooted through a patch of plants, grunting in pleasure at the taste of the tender shoots. Beavers and otters played in the shallows. A tawny cougar watched with hungry intent as a fawn strayed from its mother.

Always before, the forest had called to Grim, a dusky siren welcoming him with cool green arms, a refuge where he lost his consuming guilt and sorrow for a brief time by merging with animals. The lion and the wolf knew not the ache of remorse, nor did the eagle forsake the pleasure of riding the wind.

Gryff was dead. The familiar sting of self-reproach was tempered by thoughts of Sassy. What a relief to have something to dwell upon other than regret and revenge.

High time.
The Provider's voice intruded upon Grim's thoughts.
Twelve hundred years is a long time to mope.

I do not mope
.
I seek vengeance upon mine enemy.

More than your mind
, the Provider said.
I saw you and Sassy in the river.

The river . . . Sassy in his arms, her delectable body pressed close to him, his senses spinning with the taste, scent, and feel of her.

Kissing seems an awkward business.
The Provider picked up Grim's thoughts.
Yet you went about it with apparent enthusiasm. Is it truly enjoyable?

More than Grim wanted to admit. The wench enthralled him. He could not stop thinking about that kiss. It was becoming something of an obsession with him, but he had no intention of discussing it with the Provider or anyone else.

Except, perhaps, Sassy; Grim would like to discuss that kiss with Sassy very much.

Better yet, he would like to repeat the experience.

But Sassy was leaving this afternoon. He would never see her again. A pall of gloom settled over Grim. Sassy had brightened his world beyond measure. She was a breath of spring in his eternal winter. Ye gods, he would miss her.

Leave it to the Provider to describe what had been a heady, heated experience in such sterile terms.

The Provider would not relent until satisfied. Time to take the offensive.

There was a startled silence.

A warrior's name . . . really?
For a being without physical substance, the Provider sounded breathless.
I am pleased. I feared you would think me presumptuous.

No such thing. I am chagrined I did not think of it myself.
Remembering Sassy's comment, Grim added,
Provider is a trifle cold and impersonal.

Think nothing of it.
The vehicle passed a sign declaring they had entered the city limits.
Fare thee well, Dell.

Fare thee well, Grim
.

Grim congratulated himself as he disconnected. He had distracted the Provider, no easy thing. He looked forward to sharing the exchange with Sassy over lunch. He imagined her delight and the sparkle of pleasure in her lovely blue eyes when he told her about their conversation.

His lips curved in a smile. She would be pleased, and that made him happy.

An odd sensation, happiness. A Dalvahni warrior took gratification from performing his duty. From worlds protected and mortals saved from the ravages of the djegrali. Other emotions Grim knew: the emptying release of sexual desire in the House of Thralls—though, admittedly, not as often as the Directive instructed—the consuming heat of battle rage, and the thirst for revenge.

In two brief days, Sassy had expanded Grim's emotional spectrum. He had experienced terror, jealousy, desire, and protectiveness. This quiet, warm feeling, however, was unexpected and pleasurable.

Soon, Sassy would leave. He would return to the hunt and his solitary existence. That was as it should be, but his old life held no appeal.

They rumbled onto a structure that spanned a rushing watercourse.

“The Trammell Bridge.” Sassy slowed the car so they could admire the view. “It's a five-span rainbow arch over the Devil River. Isn't it pretty?”

Grim was not looking at the bridge. He was looking at Sassy's legs. Sassy's legs were pretty, slim and well-shaped. Those damnable shoes of hers showed them to advantage, as did the short tunic she wore. The play of her calf and thigh muscles beneath her smooth skin as she shifted her foot on the carriage pedals fascinated and distracted him.

Yesterday, he'd deemed her merely pretty. Today, no thrall was half so tempting. He forced his gaze onto the water. It was that or ravish her in front of Evan and Taryn.

That kiss . . . Sweet gods, the memory of that kiss haunted him.

The river rushed below. Rocks bared their teeth in the tumbling water, hungry titans eager to bite and gnash.

Sassy continued her dissertation on the bridge. “The arches are made of reinforced concrete. It's one of a kind. Isn't that cool?”

Evan grunted from the backseat. “Never figured you for a history dweeb, Lollipop.”

“I read about it in a book called the
Ghosts of Behr County
,” Sassy said. “The bridge was built in 1931 to replace the old iron one. A lot of the locals were unhappy about it. They believed the iron in the old bridge kept evil from crossing the river. Folks were so upset the mayor enlisted the help of a local witch, Cybil Ferguson, to cast a spell. The bridge will vanish in times of need. The townsfolk were happy and the mayor got reelected.”

“A vanishing bridge,” Evan said. “If that ain't typical Hannah. Ground zero for freaky.”

“I think it's a clever little town.” Sassy guided the vehicle past the last arch of the bridge. “Look at the trees. Aren't they glorious?”

“Totally presh.”

“Sourpuss.” Sassy made a face at Evan in the mirror. “Stop making fun of me.”

“Like never, my breezy.”

The easy camaraderie between Sassy and Evan made Grim want to smash something, preferably Evan. He focused on the town of Hannah instead.

The village
was
quaint, a small hamlet tucked in a rumple of wooded hills. Neat shops shaded by spreading oaks lined a thoroughfare dubbed Main Street. The glass storefronts sparkled in the morning sun. Pedestrian walkways were swept clean. People strolled past, stopping to chat with one another.

No one seemed in a hurry. An atmosphere of charm permeated the place, as though the town lay under a spell, untouched by the care and frenzy of the outside world.

A safe place, a refuge, or so most denizens of Hannah assumed. Appearances could be deceiving. The town had secrets, dangerous secrets. Secrets many of the simple folk dwelling here did not suspect.

Sassy turned down a side street and stopped under a tree in front of a one-story brick dwelling. The structure was simple but inviting, with a wraparound porch and wooden steps.

Sassy shut down the engine and sat without moving, her gaze on the rustling leaves overhead.

“Sassy?” Grim watched her in concern. “Is something awry?”

“No.” She gave him a smile that did not reach her eyes. “This is the lawyer's office. I need to speak with him about the buyer for the mill.”

“Excellent,” Taryn said. “Grimford will take me to Conall whilst you conduct your business within.”

Grim got out of the vehicle. “No. I stay with Sassy. Soul-sucking evil may lurk behind these walls.”

Evan sat up and stretched. “There's a lawyer in there. You can bet on it.”

“But Conall—” Taryn protested.

“Will have to wait.” Grim's tone was final. He walked around the automobile, and opened the door for Sassy. “I will take you to Conall once Sassy is safe.”

Once she was out of town and beyond the Hag's reach. Once she was out of
his
reach. Out of his life forever.

The knowledge was a heavy weight.

Sassy swung her shapely legs out of the vehicle and Grim forgot his melancholy.

Sassy slipped the green wallet over her wrist. “Evan, you and Taryn can poke around Main Street while I speak to Mr. Marvin. I should be through in a jiffy.”

Evan got out of the vehicle. “Nah, I'll tag along. This lawyer fellow could be kith.”

“Jim Marvin is
not
a demonoid,” Sassy said. “He's a nice old man.”

“You're demonoid, and you're nice.”

“Oh, piffle.”

Sassy flounced down the sidewalk, moving with assurance and feminine grace in spite of the outrageous stilts she called shoes.

Stilts designed by Pratt to tempt masculine kind, Grim decided, observing the play of the muscles in her calves and thighs.

She reached the stairs. One, two, three, four steps and she was on the porch. A Dalvahni warrior kept his wits sharp and his body in prime shape through rigorous physical training. Grim was no exception. Nonetheless, his heart raced from watching her climb.

She planted her hands on her hips. “Y'all hurry up. I'm hungry. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we eat.”

Evan and Taryn had stopped to inspect a shiny black motor vehicle parked in the driveway. The Kirvahni seemed fascinated with motorized carriages.

Shaking off his lust, Grim left the two of them to their perusal and joined Sassy on the porch. The front door was painted dark green and surrounded by glass panels. A brass sign by the entrance read L
AW
O
FFICE OF
J
AMES
R. M
ARVIN
, LLC.

Grim opened the door and ushered Sassy into a room appointed with plush furnishings. A plump woman with a sagging bosom and coiffed black hair sat behind a writing table. The receiver of the device humans called a telephone was pressed to her ear. She glanced up, her lips parting in surprise when she saw Grim. A pink chunk of some half-masticated substance was visible in her open mouth.

“Mother-of-pearl,” Sassy said. “Look at the way she's eyeing you. Like you're Tiffany's and she's got carte blanche.”

The door opened before Grim could decipher this bit of nonsense, and Evan and Taryn entered the office behind them.

The receptionist's jaw dropped when she spotted Taryn's hunting garb. Grim made a mental note to speak to the Kir about her attire.

“Easy, toots.” Evan raised a hand, cutting off the matron's unspoken question. “We're with them.”

“That's right.” Sassy bounced up to the desk, her curvaceous body radiating energy. “I'm Sassy Peterson. I'm here to see Mr. Marvin.”

The woman behind the desk glanced down at a chart. “Peterson? You were scheduled for yesterday.”

“Car trouble.” Sassy gave her a blinding smile. “Don't you
hate
when that happens? Cars can be such fussy old things.”

“Um . . . yes.” The woman looked uncertain. “He's with another client at the moment. I'll let him know you're here.”

She pushed a button on a box and spoke a few words. A moment later, an interior door opened, and an older human male with wavy silver hair and a nose like a bloodhound rushed into the room.

“Ms. Peterson, are you okay?” The man's ruddy face was creased with worry. “Your parents have been frantic. I feared the family curse had caught up with you.”

“Superstitious nonsense, Mr. Marvin.” The speaker was an aristocratic older female. She followed the male human into the antechamber. “There is no Peterson curse.”

She wore a black dress that reached her knees. The simple garment showed her excellent figure and legs to advantage. Her cropped silver hair was artfully tousled.

“I think a family curse would be exciting.” Sassy radiated energy and enthusiasm. “How do you know it's not true?”

“I know because
I'm
a Peterson.”

Sassy's eyes widened. “Mother-of-pearl, are we related?”

“Blake Peterson was my brother,” the woman said. “I'm Susan Grace Peterson Gordan Gordan Cherry Woody Harwood. I'm your aunt—your great-aunt, to be precise, and I'm here to buy the mill.”