Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,128
cauldron with something unsavory in it simmered over the coals. The unpainted pine walls on either side of the blaze sagged and were gray with age. Chunks of boards were missing. Through the holes in the house, Sassy caught a glimpse of weeds and sun-dappled, overgrown grass.
Eddie Furr had kidnapped her, but why? More importantly, where had he taken her? She strained her ears and listened; no highway sounds or urban noise. She was somewhere in the country.
And she was alone—for the moment.
This was her chance to escape. She’d slip out quietly while Eddie was gone and make her way back to Grim.
Grim. Her heart clenched in pain. He would be frantic.
Two metal bands at her wrists bound her to the arms of the chair. There was wiggle room aplenty between the shackles and her skin. If she folded her thumb against her palm and twisted, she could squeeze free.
At the merest twitch of her fingers, the bands clamped down like fiery snakes, scalding her.
“Shiitake mushrooms,” she yelped, flattening her hands against the armrests.
The cuffs loosened at once. Nausea washed over Sassy, and the room spun. Her skin throbbed, but only for a moment. The angry red spot faded and healed.
Fairy magic or Grim’s Dalvahni infusion? Perhaps a combination of the two.
She flinched at the creak of a rusty hinge. “Hello?”
“Hurts, don’t it?”
Eddie Furr clomped past her chair. His coveralls and work boots were gone, and he wore jeans and a shirt that said HEY, WATCH THIS on it. On his feet were a pair of gaudy cowboy boots patterned in red, yellow, and black leather. Beneath his clothes, his body writhed like rats trapped in a grain sack.
Ugh. Sassy shuddered. If that was his demonoid talent, it was gross.
He squatted on his haunches to stir the contents of the pot, and Sassy caught a whiff of something nasty. Whatever he was cooking stunk out loud.
She pasted a pleasant smile to her lips. “My, something smells good.”
Eddie snorted. “It smells like cat pee. It’s mimosa extract. LSD and PCP are Pez candy in comparison. Brings a fortune on the black market.”
Sassy was taken aback. “You sell drugs? Just say no.”
“Kiss my ass, Nancy Reagan. And I’d quit squirming in that chair if I was you. Cast iron is poisonous to fairies.”
The witch’s fairy catcher had been made of wrought iron. It had been deadly to fairies. She was chock full of fairy now. That explained her reaction to the cuffs.
It also explained Eddie’s strange and violent behavior. Eddie worked for the witch. Sassy’s stomach lurched. It would take more than charm to wiggle out of this one.
“Whatever the witch is paying you, Eddie,” Sassy blurted, “I’ll give you double to let me go.”
“Eddie ain’t here. I ate him.”
“You what?”
“I ate him. Had to do something. You stole my fairy juice.”
“Oh, God,” Sassy said in dawning horror. “You’re not Eddie. You’re the witch.”
“Sharp as a banana, aren’t you? What was I supposed to do, gobble up somebody’s kid? Yeah, sure, I been known to snatch a kid or two. Not anymore. Not with that sharp-eyed, nosy-ass sheriff snooping around. Nope. Puppies, kittens, and goddamn kids. People are sentimental about the little shits. Go figure.”
The thing-that-was-not-Eddie straightened abruptly.
“Aw, hell. Shifter-ka-bob’s wearing off. Not only do the damn things taste gamey, they don’t last.”
Eddie’s body collapsed to the floor like a cardboard cutout and began to spasm, heels and head drumming against the floor. The body stiffened, mouth open in a silent scream. Everything Eddie-ish about it sloughed onto the pine boards. It was horrible, like some hideous, retrograde metamorphosis.
Sassy couldn’t look away.
The shaking stopped, and the witch sat up, joints cracking. She was uglier than Sassy remembered. Patches of hair clung to her oozing scalp, and her eyes were gelatinous pools of black ink.
“Listen to these old bones.” The witch got to her feet. Eddie’s castoffs swallowed her bony frame. Her mottled skin hung in crusty drapes. “You landed me in the crapper when you took my potion.” She spat into the fire. “Fairy concentrate does wonders for my condition.”
“Condition?” Spots danced in front of Sassy’s eyes. Her heart galloped. “A-are you ill?”
“You could say that. Know anything about demons?”
“Not much.”
“A demon’s like a tick, see?” the witch said. “They latch onto their host and drain it dry, then move on to the next one. I was the best healer in the Mississippi Territory before the demon took me. Been dead inside a year if not for my magic.”