Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,34

sugar.

The Dalvahni are unaffected by drugs or alcohol. Not so with chocolate.

Grim had glugged down more than a quart of Hershey’s syrup. That explained why he’d broken into song and had the mush mouth.

Tell me, Sassy Peterson, do you indulge in mind-altering substances?

Certainly not.

Then I must surmise from your description you encountered Sildhjort, a minor deity who favors the form of a stag. There have been recent sightings of him in the area.

I had a close encounter with a god? Mother-of-pearl.

An odd combination of words. What does it mean?

Nothing in particular. It’s something I say when I’m startled.

An exclamation of surprise? I study expressions. Here are a few of my favorites from your language.

The Provider launched into a rapid-fire recitation of expletives that would make a crew of sailors blush.

Goodness, Sassy said, taken aback. That’s quite a collection.

That is nothing. The Yarthians pride themselves on the art of insult. The Provider’s dry voice warmed. Do you know there are over a thousand expressions for dung eater alone in Yarthac?

Um, no. I don’t speak Yarthac.

Of course you don’t. Remiss of me. Allow me to elucidate you. A particularly clever one is—

Provider, do you have another name? Sassy asked to stem the flow. I was wondering, you know, now that we’re friends.

Provider is the name Grim gave me. It does not please you?

It’s not a name. It’s a job description. Wouldn’t you rather be called something more personal? Harold or Ralph, or Cecil, perhaps?

I would like that very much. Do you think Grim will object?

So what if he does? You have free will.

The Provider was silent.

Hello?

You pose an interesting philosophical question, one that I have given much thought. Do I have free will? What makes one “real”?

Of course you’re real. You’re not a solid, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a person. If you want to change your name, change it.

You are remarkable, Sassy Peterson.

I think you’re pretty special, too.

I am partial to the name Dell. The Provider sounded wistful. It means “wise and stalwart servant” in the Gorthian language. I think it apt, given the adventures Grim and I have shared.

Dell is a lovely name.

And totally appropriate; the Provider was the closest thing to an oracle she’d ever met.

Then Dell it is.

Um, Dell?

Yes, my new and delightful friend?

Are thralls as beautiful as Grim says?

I am not a good judge of such things, being a nonphysical entity, but they have the requisite parts to engage in coitus. The Dal seem to find them satisfactory.

Oh. Does Grim find them satisfactory, too?

Grim does not avail himself of the House of Pleasure according to the precepts of the Directive, though I have oft urged him to do so. Why do you ask?

No particular reason. How long has it been since Grim last visited—

A tremendous blast jerked Sassy from her dream state. She was sitting in Grim’s lap. Some of her sugar high had faded, but Grim’s eyes were still bloodshot. He had the sluggish, dazed look of a frat boy waking up after a homecoming kegger.

“Goodness gracious grandma, what was that noise?” Sassy said.

“I do not know.” Grim’s speech was as fuzzy as his expression.

There was another loud crash from the woods near the house, followed by a howl of pain. Conall drew his sword. The weapon looked serviceable, if inelegant. Sassy had no doubt Conall knew how to use it.

“That sounded like a dragon,” Conall said. “Stay here. I will slay it.”

“Witch. Kill witch.”

The thunderous cry came from outside.

“That’s not a dragon.” Sassy tried to scramble from Grim’s lap; he held on. “That’s Evan.”

Conall’s black eyes narrowed. “Evan? Are you certain?”

“Positive. He can’t help it. The witch did something to him. She had him cooped up in a shed. I fell through the roof and helped him escape.”

Sassy pushed against Grim’s arm. “Let go. Evan’s my friend. He needs my help.”

“No,” Grim said.

No? No?

Sassy’s blood pressure shot into overload. A burning sensation sizzled through her veins. The fire in her veins spread until she glowed like a melting furnace.

She evaporated in a burst of multicolored sparkles.

Chapter Eleven

Grim sneezed and scattered fairy dust across the kitchen. He looked down at his empty lap. But a moment past, he’d held a fetching bundle of feminine charm. His head whirled from the combined effects of chocolate and magic.

He looked around in confusion. “Where is Sassy?”

“She dispersed,” Conall said. “She is fae?”

“Aye.” Grim shook his head to clear it. A mistake; it made the dizziness worse. “She freed a troop of fairies from a witch. She was .