Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb (6 page)

S
assy's small fist connected with Grim's nose, sending a shaft of pain through his head. The blow was surprisingly solid. Sassy appeared dainty and feminine, but she punched like a tavern brawler.

He rubbed his nose and glared down at her, welcoming the hurt. Pain was familiar. Infinitely preferable to the uncomfortable sensations he'd experienced during his frantic race through the woods, dread stalking his every step that he would stumble across Sassy's dead body. What mischief had she been up to? She was dirty and bruised, every visible inch of her porcelain skin covered with scratches, and she radiated light, as if she had swallowed the moon.

Instead of doing as she was told, the chit had run off and gotten herself in trouble, but she was alive. He had found her in time. The ball of fury in his gut eased a little, though not entirely. Tracking her for the better part of an hour, he'd found her in the clutches of not one, but
two
monsters, a circumstance that did little to improve his temper.

“You have led me a merry chase,” he said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Is it your habit to gambol through the woods without regard for safety or the vexation you cause others?”

Sassy sat up, eyes blazing. She was angry, and it showed in a most interesting way. A rainbow of lights warmed her skin. Her hair shimmered and curled around her head in wild, waving tendrils, like shoots of clover reaching for the spring sun.

“I didn't ask you to follow me.”

“The entire exercise would have been unnecessary had you done what you were told.”

“You
left
me.”

“I was hunting. I told you I would return.”

“If I'd waited around for you, I'd be dead.” She looked him up and down, her eyes narrowing. “What happened to you? What is that
smell
and why is your shirt torn? Is that
blood
on your chest?”

“It is nothing. A skirmish with one of the djegrali.” She looked confused, and Grim added, “You would call it a demon. I told you I am a demon hunter.”

“And you thought I believed you?”

“Why would you not when it is the truth?”

“Because demon hunters aren't real. Ghosts, witches, and fairies don't exist.” Sparks of light flew from Sassy's body and darted around her like fireflies. “At least, they didn't when I left the house this morning. Now I don't know anymore.”

“You are perturbed and small wonder,” Grim said, relenting. He was finding it hard to stay angry with Sassy when she was so delightfully
whole
. “You are right. I should not have left you. I am much alone. Prolonged solitude has made me insensitive to the needs of others. 'Twas not mine intent to leave you in danger.”

“Well, you did. That's why I went into the woods.” Her voice rose; bits of light dusted the air around her, like ice crystals.

He held out his hand. “Come, I grow weary of bickering. Let us quit this place.”

“I can't.” Her mouth trembled. The light emanating from her went out, as if someone had snuffed a candle. “I think I broke my ankle.”

Grim swore and knelt on the roof beside her. “You are hurt? Why did you not tell me so at once?”

“Stop fussing.” She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her face with dirt. “I don't like it when people fuss. I want people to be happy a-and kind to one another.”

“As I suppose you were being kind to me when you struck me in the nose?” Grim murmured, examining her ankle.

“Ow. That hurts.” Sassy tried to jerk her foot from his grasp. “That's different. You deserved it.”

“Be still.” He concentrated, pouring his heat and energy into Sassy. “So, humans deserve your forbearance, but I do not?”

“I didn't say that.”

“No, you let your fist do the talking. And most eloquently, I might add. You are stronger than you look.”

“Mixed martial arts and kickboxing. I take classes.”

“Fisticuffs?”

“Sort of, I guess. It keeps me in shape. My stepfather wanted me to be able to protect myself.”

“You are an apt pupil, as my nose can attest. As for your desire to make others happy, I wish you luck. Humans, in my experience, are mercurial and seldom worth the trouble.”

“People rise to your expectations,” Sassy said with a little of her former vigor. “I expect them to be kind, and they almost always are.”

“And I expect them to be a sorry lot and they rarely disappoint.”

“You get what you look for.” Sassy flexed her foot. “Hey, the swelling's gone. My foot doesn't hurt anymore. How'd you do that?”

“Surely you do not expect me to tell you all my secrets.”

“You haven't told me anything. I don't even know your name.”

“I am Grimford.”

Sassy got to her feet. “Thank you, Grimford, for healing my foot, but I think you should leave now. There's a witch after me.”

She was trying to protect him. The notion was amusing and, at the same time, oddly touching. Danger, duty, and the hunt were the Dalvahni way. The Dal were extremely powerful and death came seldom to them.

It came for Gryff.
Unbidden, the thought drifted through Grim's head.
Had you been there, he would not have died.

He had failed his brother. The knowledge settled in Grim's bones, a familiar, leaden weight he had carried for years. He pushed it away. Gryff was beyond help, slain in a djegrali ambush centuries ago. This female was not.

“I do not fear this witch.”

“I do. She's
horrible
.”

“I did not see—” Grim paused. “Hold. Are you saying the witch and the Howling Hag are one and the same?”

“The Howling Hag—is that what she's called?”

“According to my brother Duncan. Legend has it she craves human flesh.”

“It's not a legend. It's true. She was fattening Evan up to eat him.”

Grim's amusement fled. “Who is Evan?”

“The big guy on the roof.”

“You know that monster by name?”

“He's not a monster.” Sassy paused. “Or at least, he wasn't until the witch showed up. I don't think it's his fault. I think it's something he ate.”

“You helped him escape.” Things were becoming clear. “That is why the Hag is wroth with you.”

“Y-e-e-s, although, to be honest, I don't think she's exactly thrilled about the fairies.”

“Fairies?”

“They were in a cage. She was juicing them.” Sassy shook her head as though to purge the memory. “I let them go. I opened a jar and this shiny stuff hit me in the face.”

“Ah, you ingested fairy essence. That explains the glow.”

“I did
not
—Why does everybody keep saying that? I told the witch it was an accident. She's still ticked.”

Ticked? Grim processed the strange term.

Parasitic insects that feed on animals in this world
, the Provider said in a monotone
. The term can also refer to fabric or animal fur flecked with color, or the material covering a mattress or pillow. Humans sometimes use it to indicate anger or distress.

“The latter, definitely,” Grim said.

Sassy blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing.” Grim disconnected from the Provider. “I will protect you from the witch.”

“Why? You don't know me.”

“As you so astutely observed, I am responsible for your predicament.” Grim shrugged. “Besides, I am Dalvahni. We are sworn to shield lesser creatures.”

“Gee, thanks.” Sassy's tone was dry as the Provider's. “You sure know how to flatter a girl.”

“Flattery is but a means of dissemblance. The Dal do not lie.”

“I'm getting that. Bet you're a hoot and a holler at parties.”

“I would not know. I have never been to a party.”

“Never?” Sassy sounded shocked. “That's awful. I
love
parties.”

“Somehow, that does not surprise me.”

He scooped her up in his arms and got to his feet. The light, flowery scent of her hair tickled his nose. The rest of her smelled warm and earthy, a not unpleasant result of her flight through the woods. Grim breathed her in, committing the scent and feel of her to memory. Her weight was slight, but her lush curves were all woman. His treacherous body responded to her nearness. He bent his head, tempted to lick the salt from the skin of her throat.

The impulse shocked him to the core.

“What are you doing?” Sassy asked.

A salient and reasonable question; what
was
he doing?

“I am carrying you.” His voice was gruff. He cleared his throat. “I should think the answer evident.”

“Oh.” Was that disappointment in her voice? “For a moment, I thought you were going to kiss me.”

For a moment, he had thought so, too.

“You are human,” he said. “Under the Directive, the Dal confine their sexual appetites to the thralls.”

Some of his brothers may have forgotten their vows, a number that included their captain. He would not.

Not if it killed him.

“What's a thrall?”

“A species created to serve the Dal. They provide us sexual release. In turn, they feed off our lust and battle rage.”

“Are they beautiful?”

“Beyond compare. The thralvahni are made for pleasure and the delights of the flesh.”

Sassy stiffened. Pinpoints of light flickered beneath her skin like summer lightning.

“Put me down,” she said. “I'd rather walk.”

“Not until we are off this roof. You are far too breakable for my taste.”

Taking care to avoid the spell line, Grim leaped off the shed with Sassy in his arms.

Duncan trotted out of the gloom.

“There you are, brother,” he said. “Is this your Sassy? Or have you acquired some other random female?”

“It is she.” Grim lowered Sassy to the ground. “Sassy, this is Duncan. He is not a bad sort, despite a lamentable tendency toward whimsy.”

“Grim does not joke. Grim is known for his unremitting solemnity.” Duncan grinned at Sassy. “The Lord of the Seventh Hell is a jester compared to him.” He looked around him, face tightening with anticipation. “There was a battle here. You slew the Hag?”

“Nay, she fled into the woods.”

“Then I must go after her.”

“She went south toward the river,” Grim said. “But have a care. There is a monstrous huge beast on her trail.”

“That's Evan,” Sassy said. “He won't hurt you.”

Duncan's expression sharpened. “Evan?”

“Evan Beck,” Sassy said. “Do you know him?”

“I know of him.” Duncan looked thoughtful. “You are friends with this demonoid?”

“Demonoid?” Light pulsed beneath Sassy's skin, indicating her agitation. “I-I don't know what you mean.”

Grim gave Duncan a repressive glare. “He refers to a mongrel species, the offspring of demon-possessed humans.”

“Mongrel, brother?” Duncan shook his head. “You insult the lady.”

“Sassy is not a demonoid.”

“Her eyes are purple and she glows,” Duncan said. “She is clearly not human.”

Grim clenched his jaw. “Her eyes are
blue
and she drank fairy juice.”

“I did
not
—” Sassy began.

“As you say.” Duncan shrugged. “Tell me, Sassy, are you, by chance, related to the Hannah Petersons?”

“Junior Peterson was my father.” Sassy sounded wary and confused. “Trey Peterson is—
was
my brother.”

“Your father and brother were demonoids,” Duncan said. “That makes you a demonoid, too.”

Sassy's hand crept to her throat. “That's not true. It can't be.”

“Enough,” Grim said. “You go too far, Duncan.”

“I am sorry to distress her, but I speak the truth.” Duncan met Sassy's wide gaze. “I have seen the shade of your father, and I met your brother Trey before his death. He is a dog.”

Sassy gasped. “How dare you!”

“I meant no disrespect,” Duncan said. “For reasons unbeknownst to me, your brother prefers the shifter form he was most comfortable with in life—that of an athletic canine with a sleek, spotted black and white coat. Quite the hunter, according to Junior, but with an unfortunate tendency to stray.”

Sassy swayed. The light flickering within her grew dim.

“Spotted coat?” she said. “Mother-of-pearl, the Dalmatian.”

Grim caught her as she fell.

“Sassy?” Grim gave her a little shake. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks pale as chalk. “What ails her?”

“'Twould appear she has fainted.”

Grim lifted Sassy in his arms. “Curse your tongue, Duncan. I should wallop you.”

“Though I would welcome the challenge, I think you would be better served to take her from this place . . . unless you plan to leave her to the witch?” Duncan raised his brows. “She is demon spawn, after all, and hardly worth the trouble.”

“Shut up, Duncan, or so help me I will—”

Duncan held up his hands. “Peace, brother. Does Sassy have a home in Hannah?”

“I do not know.” With a stab of disquiet, Grim realized how little he knew about Sassy. “There was no time to ask. Come. Let us repair to your abode until she recovers.”