Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb (8 page)

Casting a longing glance at the king bed with its tapestry bedspread and upholstered headboard, Sassy went into the bathroom and flipped on the lights. She paused in the doorway and looked around. The space was luxurious, opulent even, with a high ceiling and wide crown molding. Rich cream and brown tile work gave the space a Mediterranean feel. An ornate crystal chandelier added a touch of drama. To the left of the door were double sinks and a toilet. Taking up an entire wall was a walk-in shower big enough to park a limo in. To the right of the door, a deep scalloped tub sat beneath an arched window. Ensconced in a gleaming walnut frame and bracketed by Corinthian columns, the garden tub was the focal point of the room.

No doubt in daylight, the window offered a splendid view of the river. At the moment, however, night pressed against the glass, concealing the outside world in thick inky fleece.

Sassy stepped into the room and swallowed a shriek when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Rings of melted mascara encircled her eyes. Merciful heavens, she looked like a startled raccoon. Her dress was ripped and stained. She was dirty from head to toe. Her once-perfect nails were bleeding and torn.

Her hair was the biggest shocker. Her naturally smooth tresses were a mass of unruly ringlets, as though imbued with a life of their own, and they
glowed
. Sparkles of multicolored light shot from the ends of her corkscrew curls and dissipated into the air.

“Oh, my goodness.” She stared at her reflection. “Oh, my
goodness.
”

Meredith drifted into the bathroom. “You mean it doesn't always look like this? I thought maybe you screwed a clown or stuck your tongue in a light socket.”

“Very funny.” Sassy tugged on a curl. It straightened and bounced back to its former loopy state. “This is a disaster. This is worse than a disaster. This is hairmageddon.”

“Maybe a bath will help,” Meredith said. “There's shampoo and stuff in the linen closet. Mama took my things after I—you know. But Trey's things are still here.”

“All of them?” Sassy was taken aback. “I didn't . . . I mean, I thought someone would want them.”

“Who? You're his next of kin. Dab emptied the fridge, and the maid service and the lawn guys come by every few weeks, but that's about it.”

“Dab?”

“Dab Holt, the real estate agent.”

“Oh, yes, we've spoken on the phone.” Sassy sighed. “I guess that's something else I need to take care of before I leave. I didn't realize Trey's belongings were still in the house.”

Things kept getting more and more complicated.

“Good thing.” Meredith indicated a neatly folded bundle on a shelf. “You can wear Trey's robe while your stuff is in the wash.”

“I can't wear Trey's clothes.”

“Why not?”

“Because. It would be weird and creepy.”

“Suit yourself.” Meredith did a lazy spin in the air. “Bet your demon hunter will like you better naked anyway.”

“He's not my demon hunter.”

“Does he know that?”

“I'm engaged.”

Meredith stopped in mid-loop, her eyes narrowing with avarice. “Engaged? Let's see the ring.”

“I don't have it. It belonged to Wes's grandmother. It was too big, so he's having it sized.”

“Wes? Spill it, girlfriend. I want the goods. Name, family, assets—the whole portfolio.”

“His name is Wesley Bodiford and his family is in banking. We met at Spring Hill College. I was a Delta Gamma and he was a Lambda Chi.”

“Trey was a Sigma Chi at Alabama.” Meredith's expression was dreamy. “Those were the days.”

“I'm sure they were.” Sassy shooed the ghost toward the door. “Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a bath.”

“Okay. We can gossip while you're in the tub.”

“I'd like to take a bath
alone
.”

Meredith stuck her lip out. “If you're going to be that way. See ya later, sweet potato.”

The ghost disappeared with an audible pop.

“Sweet potato?” Sassy closed the door with a shudder. “I think I liked her better the other way.”

She opened the linen closet and found it fully stocked. Setting a washcloth, two big fluffy towels, soap, and shampoo on the shelf beside the tub, Sassy turned on the tap. To her profound relief, there was hot water.

The tub was large and took a long time to fill. Steam curled from the surface and swirled in the cool air, painting misty figures on the window glass. With trembling fingers, Sassy stripped off the boots and muddy clothes and slipped into the tub. She washed her hair and scrubbed her body, then sank into the blissful warmth and soaked, allowing the heat to pull the soreness from her battered muscles.

Too bad she couldn't soak away the day's memories.

She stayed submerged to her chin until the water started to cool, then climbed out and dried off. Taking the white terry cloth bundle from the shelf, she hesitated, torn between practicality and reluctance. Practicality won.

She donned Trey's robe. Meredith was right. It was that or sashay around the house in a towel.

The fabric of the robe smelled faintly of cologne. Sassy lifted one edge of the collar and sniffed, inhaling bergamot, leather, and vanilla. This was her brother's scent.

Tears stung her eyes. Picking up a comb, she jerked it through her unruly curls. She was pathetic, sniffling over a brother who'd never wanted her. How stupid was that?

She heard a scratching noise and turned, and that's when she saw the face in the window.

S
assy padded into the kitchen wearing Trey's robe and a pair of spa slippers she'd found in the linen closet with the rest of the supplies. Trey's robe was too big and dragged on the floor. Out of the corner of one eye, she caught a glimpse of Grim at the stove. The smells of onions, garlic, and beef wafted in a savory cloud. Her stomach rumbled. Hurrying into the laundry room, she threw her grimy lingerie in the washer and started the delicate cycle. She examined the sad remnants of the dress she'd been wearing. It was a goner, she decided with a twinge of regret. She threw it in the trash. What on earth was she going to wear to her meeting tomorrow? She couldn't traipse around town in her skivvies.

She'd worry about that later. Right now, she was ravenous. Whatever delicacy Grim had concocted smelled divine. Reentering the kitchen, she took a seat at the island. Grim had his back to her. Propping her elbows on the granite countertop, she watched Grim, enjoying the play of muscles in his back, shoulders, and arms as he worked. His medieval warrior garb was gone, and he wore jeans and a tee shirt.

“You changed clothes,” she said.

Grim put the lid on the skillet and turned to face her. A shock of awareness zinged through her. His chestnut hair was damp, framing his stern, perfect features. The cotton shirt stretched across his wide chest and the jeans hugged his powerful thighs. He looked hard and dangerous, aloof and solitary, and sexy as hell.

Sassy gave a mental sigh. Grim Dalvahni was an unassailable island fortress. The man's mouth alone was a work of art—firm lipped and sensual, begging to be kissed into something other than that habitual intractable line. If she weren't engaged, she'd settle in for a lengthy siege. But she
was
engaged. She and Wes were made for one another. Similar interests and backgrounds, same social circle and expectations. Their parents even belonged to the same clubs and vacationed together.

“I performed my ablutions in the bathing chamber upstairs,” Grim said. “I hope you do not mind.”

“Of course not. Where'd you get the duds?”

They couldn't be Trey's. Grim was half a foot taller and a mountain of muscles.

Grim's gaze went unfocused, as though he were listening to someone else. “Ah, you refer to my clothes. I have not had time to assimilate, so I copied Duncan's attire.”

“Huh?”

He shrugged. “Humans would call it magic. Does my garb meet with your approval?”

He
magicked
his clothes into existence? Were they real, or an illusion? If she ran her hands over that splendid toned body, would she encounter cloth or bare skin? The thought made her pulse gallop.

“Sassy?”

She cleared her throat and leaped off the train to Hornyville. “You look great.”

Great? He was
gorgeous.

“You find me physically attractive.”

It was a statement, not a question. Oh, Lord, what if he could read her thoughts? She'd die of embarrassment. She pasted a bright smile on her face to cover her discomposure.

“You're very handsome, but I'm sure you know that.”

“A Dalvahni warrior does not consider such things. Nevertheless, I am gratified you approve.” His honeyed gaze moved over her. “Oddly enough, I find you attractive, too.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I am not adept at blandishments. It was not my intent to insult you. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

He looked at her with an intensity that was unnerving. The man was sincere.

“Actually, it's sort of refreshing. Most guys lay it on thick.”

“Lay what on thick?”

“Never mind. How does magic work? Do you wiggle your nose and things appear?”

His brows lowered in disapproval. “A Dalvahni warrior does not ‘wiggle.' We make what we require for the hunt and to blend in.”

“That's no fun. If
I
could do magic, I'd make shoes. Hundreds and hundreds of pairs of shoes. Darling little flats and sexy pumps, and boots in every color. A girl can never have too many shoes.”

“It sounds profligate, not to mention impractical.”

“I don't care,” Sassy said. “I
love
shoes. My shoes wouldn't have a closet. They'd have their own zip code.” She shook her finger at him. “Which reminds me, I want my sandals back, you thief.”

“Thief?” The air stilled in Sassy's lungs as Grim's gaze fastened on the bare skin of her exposed calf. “I merely equipped you with something more sensible.”

“They weren't sensible. They were hideous. Shoes should be pretty.”

“Shoes should be practical and serve a purpose. Your shoes are ridiculous.”

“
Ridiculous?
” Sassy snapped her fingers. “That's it, buddy. Hand them over.”

“If you insist.”

Her sandals appeared on the countertop.

Sassy snatched them up and hugged them to her chest. “Oh, thank goodness. Now things can go back to normal.”

The corners of Grim's mouth twitched. “The state of your footwear has no effect on the universe. Your troubles began when you ran your carriage into the stream.”

“Mother-of-pearl, the
car
,” Sassy said with a groan. “Daddy Joel's going to kill me.”

The flicker of amusement on Grim's face vanished. “Direct me to this Joel. I will tear him limb from limb.”

“You'll do no such thing. He's my stepfather.”

“Nonetheless, should he threaten you—”

“I was exaggerating, silly.” Sassy sighed. “But he's not going to be happy about his car.”

“You are fond of him?”

“Yes. He's been good to me and he loves my mom.”

“Then I will refrain from annihilating him.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“And do not worry about the carriage. I will see to it.”

“How? It's swimming with the fishes.”

Again with the pause, like he was checking her words against a reference sheet. “You mean submerged?”

“Exactly.” Sassy propped her chin in her hand, studying him. “Why do I sometimes get the feeling that we're having a three-way conversation?”

“The Dal travel far and wide in pursuit of the djegrali, to worlds where we do not know the customs or the language. To aid us in our task, we have access to an information source and a converter.”

“Oh, how clever.” Sassy bounced in delight. “Like a super translator and Mr. Google rolled into one.”

His eyes unfocused and cleared again. “The Provider says the comparison is not inaccurate.”

“The Provider . . . that's what you call him?”

“The Provider is not a ‘he,' precisely, but that is correct.”

“Ooh, let me talk to him.”

“You cannot. Our dialogue is internal.”

“You hear voices?”

Grim made a face. “One voice never ceasing. The Provider's appetite for discourse knows no bounds.”

“Poor 'Vider. Maybe he's lonely.”

“He is not lonely. He enjoys hearing himself pontificate.”

“Goodness, that's not very nice. If you hurt his feelings, he may not talk to you.”

“Oh, to be so accursed.”

Sassy laughed.

Grim closed the space between them in a blur of movement.

“That is a lovely sound.” His gruff voice danced along her nerve endings. “I would hear it again.”

He smelled clean, a subtle fragrance of cedar mingled with herbs, male, and soap. Heat radiated from his big body. The combination of his scent and nearness made Sassy light-headed. Or maybe her sugar was low and she needed to eat.

“Make another joke and maybe I will.”

“Alas, I have not Duncan's wit.” Wrapping one of her damp curls around his fingers, he tugged her close. “I like your hair. It suits you.”

His eyes were liquid gold. Sassy gazed up at him, breathless. Would he kiss her? Did she want him too? No, no, of
course
she didn't.

“It's a squirrel's nest,” she said. “W-Wes will hate it.”

Grim stilled, his mouth mere inches from hers. “Who is Wes?”

“Her fiancé,” a lazy voice drawled. “She's engaged. I heard her tell the ghost. A real pisser, ain't it?”

With a muttered curse, Grim stepped in front of Sassy, shielding her.

Evan sauntered into the room. Gone were his scraggly beard and tangled hair. He wore his wet black hair combed back and secured at the nape of his neck, revealing classic good looks. Purple eyes glittered beneath straight, dark brows. A small silver loop dangled from his pouty bottom lip. A line of metal studs pierced the shell of one ear and a long earring dangled from the lobe. Throw in a straight nose, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw and chin, add a double dose of surly, wicked appeal, and Evan Beck was lethal.

When Sassy had let him in the house, she'd told him to help himself to the clothes in Trey's closet. He'd taken her up on the offer, she noted with approval. He was shirtless and the jeans he'd borrowed rode low on his hips. Evan might not be built along superhero lines like Grim, but he was no wimp, either. Sleek and supple, with lean muscles and washboard abs, he moved with an easy grace and radiated health and vitality. Whatever the witch had fed him agreed with him.

“Who are you?” Grim demanded. His big body radiated barely suppressed violence.

“Name's Evan Beck. Sassy sprang me from the witch's shitbox.”

“You are the monster from the roof?” Grim's sword appeared in his hand. “How did you get past the shield?”

“I was hiding in the bushes when you put it up. Nice spell work, by the way.”

“You lie. I would have sensed your presence.”

“Had a lot of dealings with demonoids?”

“None.” Grim's grip tightened on the sword hilt. “I knew not of their existence until today.”

Evan crossed his arms. A lone tattoo encircled one toned bicep.
C-o-o-k-i-e
, the black and gray letters read. The name of an old girlfriend or Evan's favorite food? Sassy wondered.

“There you go,” he said. “You didn't know what to look for.”

“A varlet skulks in the shrubbery. You should have made yourself known forthwith.”

“I was nuts out and you were waving a sword around. Makes a guy cautious, if you know what I mean.”

Sassy hopped off the bar stool. “There, you see? He explained everything. Put the sword away, Grim. Please, before I have hysterics.”

Grim growled—he actually
growled
—but the sword vanished.

“Thanks, Lollipop,” Evan said. “How's the ankle?”

“Her ankle is fine,” Grim said. “I healed her.”

Evan shrugged. “Don't thump yourself on the back too hard. Most supers heal fast.”

“I am not—” Sassy began.

“Yeah, babe. You are. Deal.”

Deal with it how?
Sassy shoved the thought aside. “How did you know where to find us?”

“Didn't—came here once with Trey. Figured it was empty and thought I'd crash for a while. I wasn't thinking too clearly, to tell you the truth. Running on rage, mostly.” Evan looked around the kitchen and sniffed. “Something smells good. What's for eats?”

“It is called ‘Hamburger Helper.'” Grim's tone was surly. “Though, in truth, the label is a misnomer, for it was no help at all.”

Evan rubbed his hands together. “Perfect. I'm starved.”

“Alas, I fear the sting of hunger is doomed to sharpen, for you will not be staying.”

“That so?” Evan smirked. “How 'bout it, Sweet Cheeks? He calling the shots around here, or you?”

“You can stay.”

“Sassy, you know nothing of this man,” Grim said with a glower.

“I know he came back for me. He could have left me for the witch.”

“Yeah,” Evan chimed in. “I could've left—”

“No,” Grim said. “He is dangerous.”

“So are you,” Sassy shot back. “At least I know what to expect from him. You—not so much.”

Grim's expression tightened. “I am Dalvahni, a defender of the Light. I have sworn to protect you. What more do you need to know?”

“I know I wouldn't be in this fix in the first place if you hadn't left me.”

“He is demon bred.” Grim stepped closer, his golden eyes ablaze. “You cannot trust him. You have seen what he can do.”

“According to your brother, I'm part demon, too.”

“Perhaps, but you are no monster.”

“You don't know what I am.”

“Sassy, I do not—”

She turned to Evan. “You're welcome to spend the night . . . unless you'd rather stay with your sister?”

Evan shook his head. “Things with the fam are awkward right now. I'll stay here.”

“Then it's settled.” Sassy held up her hand as Grim started to speak. “I understand if you want to leave, Grim. Things being the way they are.”

“What things?”

Evan gave Grim a mocking smile. “She's saying you're a demon hunter, bro, and we're demonoids. Dogs and cats, living together, know what I mean? If anyone goes, it ought to be you.”

“What of the witch? Is she dead?”

“Nah, your brother screwed the pooch on that one. One look at him, and she took off. I got the impression the two of them go way back, if you catch my drift.” Evan's face tightened. “But the witch and I aren't done, not by a long shot.”