and a shirt stood on the porch. His black rubber boots were covered in grass and something that looked and smelled suspiciously like manure.
“Bob Schneider, ma’am.” The man removed his grimy farmer’s hat. “I run the dairy farm a few miles from here. I was on my way to the feed and seed when I come upon a young feller walking down the road. Dripping wet, he was, and not wearing a stitch. I gave him a pair of my oldest boy’s jeans. Asked him where he lived, and he directed me here.”
The man motioned to someone behind him. “Come on. Don’t just stand there.”
A tall lad stepped into view wearing jeans and no shirt. He was lean to the point of skinniness, but his wide shoulders gave promise of future bulk.
Sassy was no expert on teenagers, but she judged the young man to be fourteen or fifteen years old. His pale blond hair was wet, and streamed past his shoulders. He was a good-looking kid, with a strong jaw and finely chiseled features. His eyes were downcast.
Sassy’s heart went out to the teen. He must be in some kind of trouble. Probably a runaway.
“Hello, I’m Sassy.” She kept her tone gentle and reassuring. “What’s your name?”
The boy raised his head. His eyes were blue, the brightest blue Sassy had ever seen.
“I am Dell.”
Sassy’s jaw dropped. “Dell?”
Evan let loose a stream of expletives that would peel the rust off a bridge, and Grim made a strangled noise.
“Dell?” Sassy flung her arms around the boy and hugged him. He stiffened, as though unaccustomed to contact.
Of course he wasn’t used to contact. He wasn’t used to a body. This was Dell.
Laughing and crying, Sassy pulled him into the house, and grabbed Grim by the hand.
“It’s Dell, Grim. He’s come home.”
Dell bowed. “Greetings, honored father.”
“Did you hear that, Grim?” Sassy thought her heart would burst with joy. “You’re a daddy.”
“Mother-of-pearl,” said Grim.
Read more about the Dalvahni in
Demon Hunting in a Dive Bar by Lexi George, available now!
Chapter One
She was wiping down the bar when she saw him, sitting in his usual spot at a table in the corner, surrounded by shadows. Shadows that he brought with him, Beck thought with a surge of annoyance. Conall Dalvahni carried his own black hole of gloom wherever he went. With his dark hair and eyes, and his brooding expression, he was the freaking Grim Reaper, if Death were a demon hunter.
Beck couldn’t stand the guy, and the feeling was mutual. So why was he back? He’d made it clear he thought she was pond scum, an insult to decent, right-thinking creatures everywhere.
He was a demon slayer and she was a demonoid. Polar opposites. Oil and vinegar. TNT and a lit match.
It had been nearly a month since she’d last seen him. Twenty-one days, to be exact; three whole weeks without Mr. Dark and Gloomy, and good riddance. She should have shrugged off his icy disdain by now, forgotten about him and moved on. But his obvious contempt for her had stuck in her craw. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, and that pissed her off.
Everything about him pissed her off. His forbidding, humorless demeanor and his arrogant, holier-than-thou attitude.
And now he was back. Not for long, though. This was her place. She’d kicked him out once and she’d do it again.
Hefting a liquor bottle with a metal pour spout in one hand, she stalked over to his table.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“That depends.” His deep, rough voice grated on her nerves and made her stomach knot. “What have you to offer?”
“Nothing you’re interested in.”
His dark gaze raked her up and down, casual and insolent. Infuriating. Beck’s grip tightened on the bottle.
“You are mistaken,” he said. “You have information about the demon activity in this area, information that I require.”
“Get your information someplace else, mister.”
“I am more than willing to recompense you for your trouble.”
A flat leather pouch appeared in his hand. Opening it, he tossed a thick wad of hundred dollar bills on the table between them. Beck stared at the pile of bills. It was a lot of money, several thousand dollars at least.
“There is more where that came from, Rebekah.”
Something hot and hurt flared inside her. On top of being lower than dirt, he thought she was for sale. She pushed the feeling aside. It didn’t matter what he thought. She was an idiot for letting the guy get under her skin.
“The name’s Beck and I don’t need your money.”
“Your name is not