Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb (26 page)

“
What?
Have you lost it? You don't know diddly-squat about operating a timber mill.”

“I can learn. I have a degree in business and I've managed the gift shop since high school.”

“We're getting married in less than three months. We have social engagements and a wedding to plan. Tell the buyer you've changed your mind and dump the mill.”

“I can't do that. The buyer for the mill plans to modernize. This is a small town. People's jobs are on the line.”

“Which is more important, our marriage or a bunch of hicks you don't know?”

“You're not being fair. I can do this. I know I can. It'll be fun.”

“Fun? Of all the irresponsible, harebrained ideas—”

Wes stormed for the door.

“Wes, wait,” Sassy cried. “We need to talk.”

“I'm going to a hotel. Call me when you come to your senses.”

“But, Wes, there is no—”

“Are you coming with me, Ms. Holt?” Wes's face was mottled with fury. “Or are you staying with the timber tycoon and her thugs?”

Dab tossed Sassy a startled glance and scurried after him.

 

G
rim materialized in the master bedroom. The house was dark and quiet, and Sassy was asleep. She was lying on her back, arms folded loosely around her head. She glowed softly in the shadows, pale and lovely as moonlight, an enchanted fae princess. He stepped closer to the bed, staring at her in bemusement. Her lashes were dark crescents against her cheeks and her rioting tresses fanned out on the pillow, a glorious tumble of softest gold. How could he have compared her warmth and vivacity to the cold beauty of the thralls and found her lacking?

He was a fool. So was that cockerel Wesley. He did not deserve her.

Do you refer to yourself or Wesley?
Dell asked.

Grim clenched his hands. The thought of Sassy with Wesley, with any other male, filled him with rage. If Sassy were his . . .

But she was not.

Nor do I
, Grim said,
but he is her choice. We must respect that.

Though it would kill him. Though he would wander the empty spaces between the stars howling his rage and regret into the eternal blackness until he fell in battle with the djegrali.

Heat prickled along the back of Grim's neck and spread to his cheeks. He'd forgotten to break the link with the Provider.

He did so with alacrity and stepped closer, drawn to Sassy by a driving urge he did not understand and was helpless to resist. She murmured something in her sleep and stirred, her light floral scent filling his senses and making him dizzy with longing. As ever, his body responded to her nearness, especially his errant cock. He wanted to shuck his clothes and join her beneath the covers. He wanted to kiss her awake, to murmur his desire for her, his absolute, burning need, to trail his lips across her silken skin and memorize every delightful, womanly inch of her. And when she was soft and pliant in his arms, he wanted to slide between her firm thighs and enter her. The ride would be ecstasy for them both—he would make sure of that.

He shook himself from his reverie. The infernal female kept him confused and in a constant state of arousal, his feelings an unsettling welter of protectiveness, tenderness, and a craving no one but she could sate. What strange hold did she have over him? He should be running for the nearest portal, not mooning over her. She was not for him. She belonged to Wesley.

Wesley
. That puling idiot did not appreciate the treasure within his grasp. When Grim recalled the denigrating tone the male had used with Sassy, he saw red. Wesley had as much as called Sassy a wanton. Only Grim's respect for Sassy had leashed his fury at the insult. Barely.

Sir Wesley knew not how close he had come to a thrashing.

He should take Sassy for himself, Grim thought. Truthfully, he had been tempted to do so from the first. The sweet agony had heightened a hundredfold since that kiss in the river. 'Twould be the work of a moment to sweep her into his arms and away from Hannah, away from danger and her insipid betrothed. Take her captive as she had taken him. She would learn to love him. She would—

The bedroom door opened with a soft creak and Evan slipped inside. “Why are you hovering over Sassy like a vampire? Jesus, you'll give the poor girl a heart attack.”

Grim straightened with a jerk. “I am not hovering.” He kept his voice low so as not to wake Sassy. “I am securing the house against intruders in our absence.”

“Uh-huh. You were creeping, Mr. Creeper McCreeper.”

Grim ignored this bit of incomprehensible nonsense and set to work weaving a protective web of magic around the structure, adding a buffer spell to ensure that Sassy's sleep remained undisturbed. Satisfied the house was secure, he strode out of the bedroom.

Evan followed him out.

“Man, I feel sorry for you.” There was mockery in the demonoid's tone. “You got it bad.”

“What are you babbling about?”

Evan's satyr's mouth curled in disdain. “Babes are soft. They smell nice and they're fun to screw, but you never get your dick in a knot over one of them. Didn't they teach you that in demon hunter school?”

Grim frowned. “I thought you cared for Sassy.”

“I like her a lot. She's a good kid with a useful talent.”

“Sassy is a woman, not a ‘kid.' What is more, she is not a commodity to be bought and sold.”

“Look, Big 'Un, here's the reality. Every kith has talent, some more than others. Lolly? She's one of a kind. She lures you in like an insect to a flower and
wham.
” Evan smacked his fist in the palm of his hand. “She hits you with her siren feel-good and you're hooked. Got any idea what the right person could do with that kind of talent?”

“Let me hazard a guess.” Grim held on to his rising temper. “You are that person.”

“Why not? But I been thinking maybe we could work together. Our little gold mine needs to be protected. You be the muscle and I'll be the manager.” Evan grinned. “What do you think?”

“I think you are a bigger simpleton than that piece of dung Wesley, and that is saying something.”

Wheeling about in disgust, Grim strode into the darkened foyer. “It is almost dawn.” He spoke into the gloom. “The wards have been set. We are ready to depart. 'Tis your watch.”

With a faint flickering, the shades of Junior Peterson and his canine companion appeared and solidified, shining with the light of a hundred candles.

Evan strolled in, squinting at the brightness. “Jeez, turn down the wattage, Casper. You're blinding me.”

The Dalmatian barked.

“Trey says bite him,” Junior said.

The Dalmatian woofed something else.

“Trey says—”

“Oh, shut up, for Christ's sake.” Evan looked at Grim. “What are they doing here?”

“The witch is still out there. I have tasked the shades to stand guard in our absence.”

“You are such a mother hen. Personally, I'd pick Shrewzilla over Fido and Pops any day.”

Meredith materialized on a sickening wave of scent. “Why, thank you.” She fluffed her hair. “You boys can be on your way. Mer-Mer's here. I'll make sure these two losers toe the line.”

Trey snarled and disappeared.

Meredith looked innocent. “Was it something I said?”

“It's always something you say, Meredith,” Junior said. “You could slice a bowling ball with that tongue of yours.”

Leaving the two ghosts to their bickering, Grim strode out the front door and down the steps. Perhaps some air would clear his head and cool his heated blood. He needed his wits about him for the meeting with Conall. The captain had seen him in his cups, a fact that made Grim squirm.

And then there was the huntress. What business did the Kir have with the captain of the Dalvahni? The Kir and the Dal were entities unto themselves. Two races devoted to the same cause but indifferent to one another, if not hostile.

As curious as Grim was about the matter, he was eager to be done with the meeting and return to Sassy. The realization made him grimace. By the sword, Evan was right. He was a mother hen.

More like a randy rooster, he thought, adjusting his still-aching cock. Dear gods, he was pathetic, wanting what he could not have.

Perhaps that was the sum of it, a longing for greener pastures, something untried. If so, there were many thralls in the House of Bliss yet to sample. A session or three should ease his hunger. As soon as the witch was dealt with and Sassy was safe.

He considered the notion and rejected it. There was but one cure for his affliction, and it lay not with the thralls.

He turned at a loud crash and saw two blazing eyes bearing down on him. With a startled curse, he produced his sword to dispatch the monster, relaxing when he realized that his ‘attack' was the motorized carriage with Taryn behind the wheel.

Evan burst out onto the porch and halted at the top of the brick steps.

“Are you crazy?” Evan stared at the large hole in the garage door. “You're supposed to
open
the damn thing, not drive through it.”

“Really?” Taryn's serene expression did not change. “I shall strive to remember that in future. Shall we be off?”

“You're a menace.” Evan looked ready to explode. “You shouldn't be allowed to drive.”

Taryn arched a brow. “Worry not, little billy goat. The door shall be repaired. Do you accompany us or not?”

Muttering to himself, Evan climbed in the backseat. Their journey to the appointed meeting place passed without further incident . . . aside from a minor brush or two with other carriages. However, once Taryn got it firmly fixed in her mind which side of the road she was supposed to drive on, the remainder of the trip was uneventful.

The quarry was located on the river some two leagues outside of town. It had once been a thriving business, Evan explained after some prodding, until rising costs and government rules had closed it down. It was a favorite haunt for local teens, who enjoyed running their vehicles up and down the sandy hills, an activity they called “duning.”

“But nobody hangs around at night,” Evan said. “Place is supposed to be haunted.”

A grass-choked dirt road led from the paved highway to the quarry. A pair of rusted metal gates stood ajar, mired in deep banks of sand. Beyond the gates the dunes waited, pale, silent giants with their backs to the river. Grim had the fanciful notion that, given a call to arms, the dunes would rise up against some long-expected enemy.

Nonsense, of course. Yet there was a still quality about the place that inspired unease and wanderings of the imagination. Perhaps it was the eerie quiet, unbroken save for the muted slosh of the river and the soft moan of the wind among the caramel hills.

The car nosed past the entrance and stopped. Taryn tapped her boot against the pedal, but the car did not budge.

She tapped the pedal again. “What is the matter with it? Is the machine not supposed to go forward when I push the lever?”

“Maybe Mea doesn't like sand.” Evan hunched his shoulders. “Or maybe this joint gives her the creeps, like me.”

Grim got out of the car. “I do not see Conall. Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Yeah. Only quarry around.”

Taryn bounded from the carriage with the lithe grace of her kind. “Perhaps Conall waits within. What say we stretch our legs?”

Shaking his head, Evan joined them. “Not a good idea. I think we should wait till the sun comes up. Something tells me whatever's in there is less active in daylight.”

“Stay here, if you will,” Grim said. “I am going in.”

“I will go with you,” said Taryn.

Evan sighed. “I thought you bozos would say that. You heroic types give me a pain.”

They went through the gates together, two warriors matching stride for stride with the rangy demonoid. They passed through the entryway, and the wind ceased. Silence settled around them, heavy and unbroken, save for the squelch of their feet in the sand. The odd trio trudged between looming mountains of sand to the river, where the scent of sunbaked sand mingled with the damp, muddy perfume of the watercourse known as the Devil.

No sign of Conall. They waited for a while and began the trek back to the entrance.

“This place is spooky, and I'm half demon,” Evan complained. “I don't blame the norms for staying clear after sunset.”

The hair prickled on the back of Grim's neck and arms. “I, too, have misgivings.” Instinct kept his voice low. “Methinks whatever dwells here does not look kindly upon outsiders.”

“If that's a fancy way of saying we ain't welcome, I tried to tell you. You wouldn't listen.”

“The gate, Grim.” Taryn spoke quietly. “We are not alone.”

Evan skidded to a halt. “Aw, hell. Aw hell-o-hell-o-hell, what is
that
?”

Massive legs akimbo, a pair of sand giants some thirty feet tall blocked the exit. On either side of the behemoths, a line of sandy soldiers stretched in a long formation that disappeared into the gloom.

Weapons drawn, the strange army formed an unmoving wall, but Grim had no doubt they would spring into action if challenged.

They were trapped. They would not leave without a fight. Grim drew his sword, his warrior's heart exulting. The witch had gone into hiding, but the fates had given him a foe to vanquish through strength of arms. This was good. This was what he knew. What he needed.

In his mind, the blurred features of the infantrymen shifted and reformed into the aspect of Sassy's betrothed.

An army of Wesleys to vent his spleen upon? The gods were gracious.

Blood singing, Grim charged. Without warning, Conall and Duncan materialized between him and the adversary.

“To your weapons, brothers,” Grim shouted as he thundered past. “We are under attack.”

In a blur of movement, Conall got between Grim and the gate. “Be at ease, brother. The sand people are not your enemy.”

Grim slid to a stop in a shower of sand. “But. Captain—”

“They are, I believe, guardians born of magic special to this place,” Conall said. “I asked them to stand watch whilst we confer. Djegrali spies are everywhere.”

Grim swallowed his disappointment. “They are friendly?”

“Aye.”

“Give me leave to test their intent upon mine sword,” Grim begged. “To be certain.”