Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,127
them in a black fog, obscuring Houston, the scrambling men, and the blaze from view.
Sassy spied Mea in her slot by the office and slowed.
“Let’s take my car.”
Eddie yanked her onward. “My truck’s better.”
“But I don’t wa—” Sassy dug in her heels. “Eddie, did you hear me? I want my car.”
Eddie jerked her, hard. “Want in one hand, princess, and shit in the other.” His voice was a grating, un-Eddie rasp. “See which one fills up first.”
Lumps moved beneath his skin. His features blurred and reformed.
“Eddie . . . your face.”
“Damn.” Eddie yanked a wrench out of his coverall. “Time to skedaddle.”
He swung the wrench at Sassy’s head. Pain exploded in her skull and the world went dark.
Grim and Mr. Collier emerged on the riverbank opposite the witch’s cottage. The human pointed his contrabulator this way and that. After a moment, it reacted with an unmistakable tug.
“That way.” Collier set off into the woods.
They made their way through brush and vines, across streams and over fallen logs. Collier’s mechanism sang and led the way, drawing them ever deeper into the forest. Grim followed, plagued by the uneasy feeling that he should not have left Sassy.
His disquiet grew with every step.
“Stop.” He halted. “I am going back.”
“Now? We’re getting close.” Collier waved the vibrating divining rod. “Look at the way it’s a-shimmying. There’s serious woo-woo ahead.”
The contrabulator tugged the human with such force that he broke into a trot. Huffing with exertion, Collier plowed across a shallow ravine choked with leaves and up the other side.
“ Not . . . far . . . now.”
Grim went after him, torn between his warrior’s instinct and the inexplicable urge to return to the mill.
A few paces beyond, they burst out of the trees and into a small clearing.
“Whoa.” Collier reined in the bucking contrabulator. “Thought we were hunting a witch.”
“We are. What of it?”
“Look at it.” Sweating with the effort, Collier held onto the violently gyrating wire. “It’s orange.”
“So?”
“So we ain’t hunting no witch. Contrabulator glows orange when a demon is near.”
With a muttered curse, Grim strode into the glade. A stick cracked beneath his booted foot, and the ground shook.
“Watch out,” Collier yelled as a dark, twisted shape rose from the bowels of the earth with a shivering moan.
Grim drew his sword and charged, hacking at the fiend with his blade. The wraith dissolved and blew away.
Grim whirled, seeking the enemy. “By Kehv, what mischief is this? I am in no mood for games.”
A ghoulish head materialized, startling him. The glowing face swung back and forth like a gruesome lantern. Black eyes burned in the sunken sockets. Wiry hair clung to the cadaverous skull.
“Gotcha, sucker,” the phantom shrieked. “The early witch gets the worm.”
The ghastly vision vanished.
“Creepy.” Collier sidled nervously into the clearing. “That a demon?”
“Nay, ’twas the witch. Or rather, some spell cast to create her likeness. To what end, I know not.”
“Dang. I was hoping it was a demon.” Collier shook his contrabulator. “This thing needs a tune-up—don’t know a witch from a demon.”
A sickening miasma rose from the ground where the witch’s image had been. The soil was blackened and charred. Grim knelt and dipped his fingers in the ashes. He touched the soot to his tongue and spat.
“I retract my earlier statement,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with your divining rod. This spell reeks of djegrali magic.”
“That right?” Collier’s worried expression eased. “Good to know it ain’t broke. Wonder what that was about?”
Grim knew. The witch wanted Sassy. She sought to draw him away from the mill with her devil’s tricks. His lips curved in satisfaction. The Hag’s efforts were in vain. Grim valued Sassy too well to leave her unprotected. His brother would keep Sassy safe in his absence.
A shadow moved among the trees and Duncan stepped into the glade with his sword drawn.
“What ho, Grim?” The warrior’s eyes were alight with the fever of the hunt. “Have you run the Hag to ground?”
It was as if a giant smashed Grim in the ribs, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sassy was alone and unguarded.
“Ah, gods, Duncan.” Grim swayed. “What have you done?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sassy came to with the lollapalooza of headaches. With a groan, she tried to lift her hand to the tender knot on her scalp and smacked into something hot.
“Yeow.”
She opened her eyes, and saw that she was seated in an old wooden chair facing a crumbling stone fireplace. A small fire crackled on the hearth and a