Demon Hunting In Dixie (9 page)

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Authors: Lexi George

BOOK: Demon Hunting In Dixie
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Crap, busted. Time to try a diversionary tactic.
“Mama, you look different. Have you changed salons?”
“What? No, I—” Bitsy gave her hair a perfunctory pat. Her hand stilled. “What in the world?”
Spinning on her heels, she trotted over to the gold and umber beveled mirror that hung by the door. She stiffened in horror.
“Incoming. Duck,” Addy said.
“What?”
“Cover your ears, Brand.”
“Merciful heavens, my
hair,
” Bitsy shrieked. “And look at my makeup! I look like somebody melted a clown. Car-lee saw me like this? Adara Jean Corwin, how could you?”
The Mom-i-nator whirled about. Flames and lightning bolts and promises of retribution shot from her eyes.
“Run,” Addy said. “Run like the wind.”
She grabbed Brand by the hand and pulled him out the door.
Chapter Nine
T
he moment Adara slipped her hand in his the tightness in Brand's chest eased. What was it about this one female that set his universe on end? She had him tied up in knots, crazy with lust and consumed with worry about her safety. Never again did he want to experience the sheer mind-numbing terror that coursed through him when he thought the djegrali stalked her and he was not there to protect her. He could have killed Ansgar for not telling him sooner. If something had happened to Adara, he
would
have killed him, the consequences be damned. He should not have let her out of his sight. He would not do so again, not until the djegrali was slain or banished from this realm. Adara was in danger, and she must be made to understand.
“Adara, wait, I have something to tell you.”
She tugged him down the hall. “Sure, sure, tell me anything you like, but let's get out of here first.”
“You are in danger.”
“You're telling me. Did you see the look on Mama's face? One more second, and we'd have been nuked.”
“Am I to glean from this untoward haste that you are afraid of your mother?”
Adara stopped at the door, her hands on her hips. “Didn't you
see
her? She was about to detonate. Five more seconds, and we'd have both been pillars of ash.”
There it was again, that annoying feeling of lightness that rose in his chest when he was around her. His lips twitched. He clamped them together to keep from smiling. This excess of levity was becoming bothersome.
“Your fear is illogical. Your mother is a mortal woman, and a diminutive one at that.”
“Do you
have
a mother?”
“No.”
“Are you Southern?”
“No.”
“Then shut up. You don't know what you're talking about.”
She pushed open the door and started outside. “Wait.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I will go first.”
She frowned but allowed him to step in front of her. “It's broad open daylight and hot as a fox outside, and you're worried about demons?”
“The djegrali are unaffected by heat or cold, or time of day. They can strike you from a blizzard or the burning heart of the desert, at any hour.” A slight movement at the corner of the building caught his eye, a blur of motion that could have been the flutter of cloth or his imagination. He looked around. Nothing moved. His desire to protect the woman had him on edge. “You can come out, but stay close to me.”
She brushed past him and hobbled down the sidewalk. “There you go again, trying to be the boss. Thing is, I don't remember promoting you to that position. Seems like last time I looked, I was a free—”
“Adara, you are limping. What happened to your shoe?”
“—woman, and that means I don't have to do what you—”
He caught up to her in two strides and scooped her up in his arms.
“Brand, put me down. People will talk.”
“No.”
“Brand, please, I'm too heavy. You'll hurt yourself or have a stroke in this heat.”
“Do not be ridiculous. You hardly weigh more than a child. In any event, it does not matter. I have carried injured brothers off the battlefield on more than one occasion. You are as a feather next to them. Besides, I am unaffected by the heat.”
“You have a brother?”
“A brother warrior, Adara. The Dalvahni do not know family as you do.”
“Oh.” She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. “Sometimes, that can be a good thing.”
“Are you thinking about the mama again?”
“No, I was thinking about the Farrises. Poor Shirley, her husband ran around on her all over town. Her oldest son, Dwight Junior, is almost as bad. Cats around on his wife something terrible. And then there's Dinky. He always seems to be in one kind of trouble or another. His mama is always having to bail him out of jail.”
“Ah, yes, Dinky Farris, the man whose garb so offended your mother. I am sorry for his deformity. Human males often define themselves in comparison to other men. It must be difficult to know you have been measured and found wanting. To be dubbed according to one's inadequacy, and to have others remind you of your shortcomings each time they address you, must be unbearable.”
Adara giggled. “He's got a deformity, all right, but not the one you're thinking.”
“I do not understand.”
“He's called Dinky because his mister is so big.”
“His mister?”
“Brand, you're the guy here. I can't believe I have to spell it out for you.” She motioned with her hands. “He's got a big hose, all right? A trunk like an elephant. He has to roll it up to put his pants on. People call him Dinky to be funny. His real name is Rod, which is just as bad when you think about it. Me, I'd have changed my name. But I guess after all these years, he's gotten used to it.”
Brand halted in the shade of one of the big live oaks that lined the sidewalk. A swinging sign on a black iron post proclaimed the avenue they strolled along to be Main Street. Adara's shop was a block or so farther down, but Brand could hardly see for the red haze that obscured his vision. “I see.” He kept his tone even with an effort. “It is ironic, is it not, that he is called Dinky when he is, in fact, quite the opposite?”
“Uh yep, you could say that.” Adara waved at a woman on the sidewalk. “Oh, hey, Miss Mamie, how you doing?”
An elderly woman with white hair waved back. “Fine as frog hair, Addy. I like your new hairdo. You hurt your ankle?”
“No, ma'am, I broke a heel, and this nice gentleman is giving me a lift to the shop.” To Brand, in an undertone, she said, “That's Mamie Hall, the biggest gossip in three counties. By sundown, this will be all over town and she'll have us canoodling right here on Main Street.”
“Well, bye, Addy.” Eying Brand curiously, Miss Mamie moved on down the street.
He tried to control his simmering rage. It should not matter that Adara had seen this Dinky's manhood. She was a woman full grown. Over the eons, he had been with other females hundreds of times, albeit all of them thralls. Why, then, this fire in his gut and brain, and the unreasoning desire to permanently separate Dinky Farris from his mister?
“Is something wrong, Brand?”
He dragged his unfocused gaze off the street and looked down at Adara. Her pale hair curled in a tangled halo around her lovely face. A rose blush tinted the delicate curves of her cheeks and stained her lush mouth. She gazed up at him, her brown eyes luminous.
“You have lain with this Dinky?”
Her eyes widened. “Me with Dinky Farris? Not no, but hell no. Major yuck.”
“Then how do you know how he puts it in his pants?”
“I don't! It was a joke. For Pete's sake, Dinky is my brother's age.”
“Many women find older men attractive.”
“Well, sure, but not Dinky. I mean, did you see him? He's got about as much meat on him as a chicken wing, and then there's the mullet from hell. Billy Ray Cyrus on Rogaine and acid.” She looked at him under her lashes. “I do like older men.
Much
older men. Men who've been around the block a few thousand year—”
“You did not lie with him?”
“
No
.” She kicked her heels in an adorable fashion. “Put me down. You've gone and made me mad.”
“Good. I am glad I make you mad.
I
think I have been a little mad since first I saw you.”
He kissed her. She tasted like honey and spices. He forgot about the djegrali and his duty as a warrior, and the directive against fraternization with mortals. He forgot they stood on a street corner in full view of everyone that passed. He forgot everything except the blissful heat of her mouth. He was shaking with need by the time he ended the kiss, and cognizant of one fact. If he did not have this woman and soon, he would go stark staring mad.
“Mama, what's that man doing to that lady?”
“She's got something stuck in her throat, Little Will. He's trying to get it out.”
Brand raised his head. A small crowd had gathered around them. A woman and her little boy stood closest to them, gawking.
“With his tongue? Yuck, grown-ups are weird.” The boy looked up at his mother. “You ever get something caught in your mouth like that, Mama?”
“ 'Course not, Little Will. Don't be silly.”
“Then how come I saw Mr. Lucas sticking his tongue in your mouth down at the hardware store last Saturday? You want me to tell Daddy? Maybe he can help you get it out.”
The woman turned scarlet and jerked the little boy down the street.
Bemused, Brand watched the woman hurry off.
“Well, at least that will give them something else to talk about,” Adara said. She waved her hand at the cluster of onlookers. “Hey, how y'all doing?”
“That you, Addy?” An elderly man with a long, saggy face squinted up at them. “You all right, or is this feller bothering you?”
“I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Duffey.”
“Saw your gal friend Evie a while ago. She was with another long, tall drink of water. Great big blond feller.”
“Really?” Adara murmured.
“Yep.” The old man's gaze shifted to Brand. “Your mama know where you are, Addy?”
“Yes, sir, she knows.”
Brand looked around. “The mama has supernatural powers of sight in addition to being an incendiary device?”
“No.”
“Then that is an untruth, Adara. The mama does not know where you are.”
“She might not know
exactly
where I am right this minute, but she knows I'm in town and that I'm with you.”
“That is not what you told this human. Your speech is most imprecise.”
The old man slapped his leg. “He's a funny one, ain't he? I take it from the way you two was a-smooching that he's your beau.”
Adara flushed. “Uh, well . . . I don't . . .”
Brand processed this bit of conversation.
Beau,
a term signifying a man who was a young woman's lover. He and Adara were not lovers yet. Not in the strictest sense of the word. But they would be. Soon. This was an immutable fact.
“Yes,” he told the Duffey human. “I am Adara's beau.”
Mr. Duffey looked him up and down. “That so?”
“And you fussed at me?” Adara said. “Talk about telling a whopper. Liar, liar pants on fire.”
Brand felt her quiver with indignation. “A rhythmically pleasing but ambiguous expression, Adara,” he said. “Are you implying that I am such a horrible liar that my pants have recently, or are about to, burst into flame? Or do you mean to say that hearing me lie is comparable to donning blazing garb?”
“I'm saying you told Mr. Duffey a big old
lie.
Is that clear enough for you, bub? You are not my beau. We met yesterday.”
Brand looked her in the eye. Some of the seething mixture of lust and frustration that churned within him must have shown in his expression, because she went still.
“We may have met yesterday, but we have exchanged essences. And we
will
be sexual partners, Adara. It is only a matter of time.”
Adara gasped. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Exchanged essences?” The lines around Mr. Duffey's eyes crinkled in delight. “That's not what they called it in my day, but I reckon the gist is the same.”
The old man chuckled and moved off down the street.

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