Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb (36 page)

Sassy gave him a sharp look. “Is Trey behind the accidents at the mill?”

The shade winked. “You're a smart girl. You figure it out.”

Junior disappeared.

“Well, I like that,” Sassy said. “First Trey leaves me the mill. Then he tries to put me out of business.”

“Your brother is a troubled spirit, my love,” Grim said. “I doubt he knows what he is about.”

“You're right. Trey's had it rough. Juke says my grandfather murdered him in front of Trey.”

“Juke?” Grim knelt beside the prone female and checked her pulse. “Who is Juke?”

“Juke was Mama's nickname for Junior.” Sassy's expression was troubled. “I think Mama really loved him. And Trey loved Mama. He stayed with my grandfather to protect her. Me, too, I suppose. I thought my brother didn't care, but he did. He cared a lot.” Sassy's voice trembled. “It's so sad.”

Grim rose to his feet and took Sassy in his arms. “Your brother did what he had to do to keep you both safe. For that, I honor him.”

“Is Mama all right?” Sassy relaxed, but there was worry in her voice. “Should we call a doctor?”

“Her color returns and her heartbeat is strong.” Releasing Sassy, Grim deposited the unconscious woman on the couch. “Perhaps a cool cloth for her head would bring ease.”

“Of course,” Sassy said. “I should have thought of that.”

She bustled from the room, returning with a bowl and a small towel. Dampening the material, she bathed her mother's face and the back of her neck with the cool cloth.

Eleanor Champion stirred and sat up. “What happened? Merciful heavens, I had a disturbing dream.” She saw Grim and groaned. “It
was
a dream, wasn't it?”

“No, Mama,” Sassy said. “Grim and I are married.”

Mrs. Champion slumped against the pillows. “Ungrateful child. After all I've done for you.”

A door slammed and an older man with blond hair dusted with silver came into the room. He had the air of a successful merchant about him, shrewd but soft around the middle.

“The car looks fine, but it won't start, Eleanor,” he said. “We'll have to have it towed.”

Sassy smiled at the man. “Daddy Joel, I'd like you to meet my husband, Grim Dalvahni.”

“What's that, Sassy Bug?” The human's gaze skittered from Sassy to her mother. “Your husband?”

Grim stepped forward. “Well met, Mr. Champion. Be at ease. I will honor and care for your daughter so long as I draw breath.”

“Nice speech.” Champion shot his wife another uneasy look. “You okay with this, Eleanor?”

“Of course I'm not okay with it. She won't listen to me. Maybe you can change her mind.”

“I won't change my mind, Mama.” Sassy's voice was firm. “I love you, but I won't live for you. Not anymore.”

“Well.” Champion's heartiness sounded forced. “She's a happy little thing, our Sassy, but expensive. She's for damn sure ruined my car.”

Grim produced his money pouch. “As to that, Mr. Champion, I wish to purchase Mea—er—the car from you.”

“No, no, no.” The man shook his head. “Can't let you do that. The thing's no good now. Water's ruined the engine.”

Grim fixed the human with his gaze. “I insist.”

Champion's face went slack. “Uh . . . guess that would be all right. Send me the money later.”

“Very well.” Grim gave Champion a curt bow. “It shall be as you wish.”

“Get your things together, Sassy, you and your new mister,” Champion said. “We'll drive back to Fairhope in your mama's car. I'll book a reservation for dinner at the club tonight to celebrate your nuptials. You and—Jim, was it?”

“Grim,” Grim said. “Grimford Dalvahni.”

“Grim,” Champion repeated. “You and Grim will stay in the guest house until we find you something bigger. Your starter house is on me—wedding present.”

Mrs. Champion bolted upright. “What a lovely idea, Joel. The Finches' house is for sale down the street from us.”

“No, Mama.” Sassy walked over and kissed her stepfather on the cheek. “Thank you for offering, Daddy Joel, but our life is in Hannah now.”

“But your mama—”

“Will be just fine.” Sassy gave her mother a level look. “Right, Mama?”

Eleanor Champion opened her mouth and closed it.

“It seems I have no choice.” Eleanor lifted a trembling hand to her forehead. “Take me home, Joel. I'm very tired.”

“Sure thing, sugar puss. Whatever you say.”

Champion escorted his wife to the car. Grim and Sassy walked them out, waving good-bye as they motored off.

Grim and Sassy returned to the house and Sassy closed the door. “That went better than I expected.”

“You handled your mother well. You were firm, but kind.”

“I know, right?” Sassy beamed. “Looks like we have the house to ourselves. Evan's gone. Mama and DJ are headed back to Fairhope. Meredith is banished. Juke and Trey are nowhere in sight. Taryn's the only one unaccounted for.”

“Taryn is on a mission.”

“Oh. When will she be back?”

“I do not know. Perhaps never.”

“Never?” Sassy looked forlorn. “She didn't say good-bye. H-how sad.”

Grim stroked her cheek. “Do not mourn the Kir, my love. Doubtless I am wrong, and she will return to plague us.”

“I
liked
Taryn.”

“She was tolerable . . . for a Kir. I confess I should not mind seeing her again. Perhaps in a century or three.”

“You're impossible.” Sassy wrapped her arms around his neck and gazed up at him. “We're alone. What do we do now?”

Grim gave her a slow smile. “Evan says it is customary to partake in a post-nuptial ritual called a honeymoon. Evan says it is a holiday for sex.”

“Evan says, huh?” Sassy's eyes twinkled. “I'm pretty sure we did that already.”

Her mouth was soft and rosy. The taste of it would be heady and sweet. Unable to resist, Grim lowered his head and kissed her.

“Then I should like another,” he murmured against her mouth. “And another and another. Someplace romantic.”

Grim was not sure what that meant, exactly, but he intended to follow Evan's instructions to the letter. Anything that involved Sassy's happiness required his utmost attention.

“Romantic is wherever you are.” Sassy pressed closer, molding her curves against Grim. Her hair and skin began to shimmer. “I vote we start with the master bedroom. After that, we can move to the other rooms in the house.”

Grim lifted her in his arms, his heart and blood singing. “Your plan has merit. We will start where you suggest.”

Striding into the bedroom with his love in his arms, he did just that.

A Dalvahni warrior is true to his word.

A
door slammed, followed by the heavy tread of footsteps down the hall, and Mr. Houston stomped into Sassy's office.

“Damn band saw's busted again,” he announced. “Third time this week.”

Sassy looked up from her computer. “What now?”

“Nail in one of the logs.” Houston seethed with frustration. “Call the saw file.”

“Right. I'm on it.”

Two minutes later, Sassy hung up the phone. “He's at a mill in Washington County. It will be a couple of hours before he gets here.”

“Great,” Houston said. “Just great. We're shorthanded and now this. What else can happen?”

Sassy flung up a hand in warning. “Please. That's not a question you ask around here.”

A series of incidents had plagued the mill in recent weeks. Conveyor belts stopped working. Planers and edgers went on the fritz. The chipper malfunctioned. Trucks got stuck or broke down.

And Fran the hormonal saw had lived up to her reputation as a steel cold bitch.

To add to Houston's frustration, they were three men short. One had been injured when a gang blade edger kicked back a piece of wood, breaking his collarbone. Another sliced open his hand trying to unclog the chipper. The third landed in the hospital following an unfortunate run-in with a yellow jacket nest.

Poor Grady Roberts had swelled up like a balloon.

On the plus side, Houston had agreed to rehire Burke and Furr, on one condition. Furr was to keep a lid on the doom and gloom. No more talk about curses or ghost hounds.

So far, Eddie had kept his mouth shut, though it couldn't have been easy. Furr was a demonoid. He had the purple eyes to prove it. His supernatural genetics probably had something to do with his ability to see ghosts, and Trey haunted the mill on a regular basis. With every appearance by the ghost hound, something went south. Regular as clockwork.

Sassy would dearly love to put a bug in her brother's ear . . . if she could catch him. But Trey was a hit-and-run spook. The ghost dog flickered into view and disruption followed. Fran was a favorite target. The Dalmatian made his presence known and the saw choked on a bit of metal or got snagged in the wheels.

Sassy understood Trey's obsession with that particular piece of equipment. Fran had been the instrument of their father's death and Trey had been forced to watch. If it were up to Sassy, she'd close the place and turn Fran in for scrap. Personally.

Not an option, though; people depended on her for their livelihood.

A new band saw was on order. Sassy hoped Trey would lose interest in the replacement. But like it or not, Fran was a necessary evil for the time being.

Houston noticed Grim leaning against the wall, and scowled. “You live here or something?”

Grim folded his arms across his massive chest. He could stand like that for hours, immobile as a rock, keeping watch over Sassy while she worked.

“I stay near Sassy.” Grim stared straight ahead.

“Newlyweds,” Houston said, and stomped back out.

Though there'd been no sign of the witch, Sassy's insistence that Grim's continued presence at the mill was unnecessary had fallen on deaf ears.

“I go where you go,” Grim had said, and that was that.

Secretly, Sassy was relieved, and not because of the witch. The freshly hewn trees lying in oozing piles and the sharp tangy smell of cut wood brought bile to her throat. And the sounds . . . The shriek of the saws as they bit into the wood was torture. Grim's presence eased her physical distress. To his credit, he did not urge her to quit, instead he used his magical abilities to buffer the toxic effects of the mill. At best, it was a temporary solution. Plain and simple, the mill made Sassy sick.

She'd put out feelers for another buyer, but that would take time. Selling to Aunt Susan was not an option. Sassy had accepted that Trey—not Aunt Susan—was behind the troubles at the mill, but that didn't mean she trusted the demonoid. Susan Grace Peterson Gordan Gordan Cherry Woody Harwood was Blake Peterson's twin, and Blake Peterson had been a full-tilt psycho.

Sassy glanced at her husband.
Husband.
A shiver of delight shot through her. They'd been married two weeks and it seemed a happy dream. Mama had thawed a little. She was making plans for a second ceremony to be held in Fairhope sometime in September.

“Nothing extravagant,” Mama had announced on the phone. “Something small and tasteful. You'll be married at Saint James, of course.”

Tasteful, no doubt. Small was a relative term. Eleanor Champion's only daughter was getting married. That meant pulling out the stops.

To Sassy's surprise, Grim had jumped on board.

“This ceremony will bind us by human law as well as Dalvahni?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sassy had said, “But—”

“Then we will be married in the church.”

O-k-a-a-y.
Twist her arm. Make her marry her demon hunter all over again.

“Still no word from Dell?” Sassy asked.

Sassy sensed the undercurrent of unease behind Grim's stoic exterior.

“No. You?”

Sassy shook her head. “Not a peep.” Grim frowned and she added, “But I'm sure he's fine. He's the Provider.”

“No longer. My inquiries are addressed as they were before Dell came into being.”

Meaning Grim's questions were answered by the dry, disembodied information source used by the rest of the Dalvahni. Cold. Emotionless. Incapable of carrying on a two-way conversation. And with zero interest in expressions, Yarthac or otherwise.

Dell had vanished. Even Kehvahn did not know where he had gone. Grim had asked.

Grim was worried and hurt by his old friend's absence. Sassy felt his pain like her own. How dare Dell put him through this? If Dell had a butt, Sassy would kick it.

“Dell is fine,” Sassy assured Grim. “I'll bet he's somewhere right now learning Bubba Speak.”

Grim unfolded his arms. Crossing the room, he gazed out the window into the mill yard. Sassy touched the talisman around her throat, and Grim's aura came into view. He was troubled and grieved, the halo around him tinged with guilt.

Rising from the desk, Sassy went to him. She put her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his solid back. Heat radiated from his big body. She breathed in his familiar woodsy scent. Mother-of-pearl, she loved him.

“What's wrong, Grim? I know you're worried about Dell, but there's more. Tell me.”

When he spoke, his words were halting. “Kehvahn says I made Dell in my loneliness. What if I . . . somehow unmade him when I no longer needed him?”

“Is that what's worrying you?” Sassy gave him a quick hug and stepped back. “Dell is your friend. You wouldn't unmake him, even if you could.”

Grim turned from the window. “He kept me sane in my isolation. I regret to say I was not always kind to him. I cannot shake the notion that something has happened to him. I feel it in my bones.”

“Dell will be back. You'll see.”

Grim's stern expression softened. “Have I told you today how beautiful you are?”

“Beautiful in jeans and a tee shirt?” Sassy laughed. “Hardly.”

Grim cupped her bottom in his big hands and tugged her close. Sassy's breath hitched when she felt the bulge in his jeans. Grim was aroused.

“You are lovely no matter what you wear.” His voice was rough with desire. “I have itched to touch you all morning.”

“You're touching me now.”

Grim's slow smile heated her blood. “So I am.”

He took her mouth in a searing kiss.

“Grim the wanderer, tethered at last. Married life suits you, brother.”

Duncan stood in the doorway. There was an air of expectancy about him and a vibrating tension. He was dressed in hunting leathers. His broad shoulders blocked the opening.

“Brother.” Grim released Sassy. “What brings you here?”

“I bring tidings of the witch.”

Duncan stepped out of the doorway and into the room. He had someone with him, an older gentleman.

“You remember Mr. Collier, do you not?”

“Aye.” Grim acknowledged the older man. “Sassy, however, may not.”

Sassy recalled her fairy fit at the restaurant with a blush. She'd turned into the purple whatzit and gobbled up the dessert case.

“From the Sweet Shop,” she said. “Of course I remember.”

“Nice to see you again.” Mr. Collier waggled a coat hanger around. “Some kind of devilment afoot. Contrabulator's been whining for two days.”

“Think you it is the djegrali?” Grim asked. “If so, you should inform Conall at once.”

To Sassy's surprise, the affable Duncan snarled.

“Nay, 'tis the witch,” Duncan said. “I know well the foul stench of her spell craft.”

“The witch?” Grim's face blazed with a terrible eagerness.

Duncan answered with a curt nod. “I tracked the disturbance to her cottage, but she escaped across the river. She cannot hide forever, not with Collier to guide us with his contrabulator. Will you join me in the hunt?”

Grim gave Sassy a swift, hard kiss and rounded on Collier. “You. Come with me.” He grabbed the startled human by the arm. “Duncan, stay with Sassy.”

“What? Nay, I must—”

Grim and Collier vanished.

Duncan slammed his fist into the wall, knocking a hole in the wood paneling. “I cannot believe it. He has left me to play nursemaid whilst he goes in pursuit of mine enemy.”

“Cool your jets,” Sassy said. “You're going after them.”

“Truly?” Duncan's expression fell. “But no. I cannot leave you unguarded.”

Sassy propped her hands on her hips. “Now you listen to me, Duncan Dalvahni. If something happens to Grim, it's over for me. Do you understand?”

Duncan's fierce expression softened. “Aye, in truth I do. Too well.”

“Then go after him. Now.”

Duncan hesitated. “Doubtless the witch is leagues distant and you are quite safe.”

“Doubtless.”

Duncan's eyes glowed. “Thank you, Sassy. You have the heart of a warrior. My brother is fortunate to have you as his mate.”

He disappeared. The dust motes had barely settled when Lucy Barnett stuck her head in Sassy's office.

“I'm off to Hannah for my annual checkup,” Lucy said. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No, thanks.”

Lucy left and Sassy stared at her computer, unseeing. What if Grim was hurt by the witch or placed under some awful spell? How long had he been gone?

She glanced at the clock. Three minutes? Mother-of-pearl, waiting was hard.

The phone rang, jerking her from her anxious thoughts. She answered it. She was jotting down a lumber order when Trey materialized in front of her desk.

Sassy jumped to her feet. “Bad dog. Go away. You've caused enough trouble for one day.”

The Dalmatian gave her a reproachful look. Tipping his head back with an eerie howl, he disappeared.

“Good riddance,” Sassy said, and burst into tears.

She was worried about the mill and Dell. She was worried about Taryn, off doing Lord knows what and in what kind of danger. She was sick at heart over what had happened to Juke and Trey.

Mostly, though, Sassy was worried about Grim. If something happened to Grim . . .

When, oh, when would he be back?

She grabbed a tissue off her desk and blew her nose. Grim would be fine. Better than fine. He was smart and skilled. Duncan and Mr. Collier were with him. She was being ridiculous.

She was drying her eyes when Eddie Furr burst into her office. He wore coveralls and he smelled of the mill: wood and sawdust and machine oil. Wiry and hyper, and maybe five foot six in work boots, Furr was seldom still. He reminded Sassy of an underfed squirrel with his nervous energy. His dark hair receded from the shoreline of his brow, a fact he took great pains to disguise with a comb-over when he wasn't wearing a hat.

“
Fire
,” he yelled. “Everybody out. Mr. Houston says.”

Mr. Houston says
was the mill equivalent of the Ten Commandments.

“Bunny rabbits.” Sassy made a grab for the phone. “I'll call the fire department.”

Eddie smacked the receiver out of her hand. “No time. Fire's spreading. Got to get out now.”

Furr yanked her to her feet and propelled her down the hall. Flinging open the main door, he shoved her outside into the yard. Men ran to and fro, their frantic shapes outlined against the orange inferno that consumed the main cutting shed. Oily black smoke rose from the burning building, striking an ugly bruise on the pale skin of the sky.

Houston stepped out of the chaos. “Taking a head count. Where's that husband of yours?”

“He went to take care of something.”

“Good,” Houston said. “And Lucy?”

“Gone.” Sassy inhaled smoke and coughed. “Are the men all right?”

“Nobody hurt, but this is a disaster.” Houston turned to shout at one of the men. “No, Shavers, forget the shed. Save the equipment.”

“The fire department—” Sassy began.

“On their way.”

The wind shifted, engulfing them in sooty vapor.

“Get her out of here, Eddie.” Houston hacked and covered his mouth with his sleeve. “I got enough to worry about.”

“Sure, boss.”

Furr pulled Sassy across the parking lot. Thick clouds of smoke rolled behind them in a black fog, obscuring Houston, the scrambling men, and the blaze from view.