Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,54

“I do not require instruction on the Directive, Kir.”

He raised his hands, palms up, and the car rose gently in the air and hovered a few feet above the twin chimney stacks.

“The back of the carriage is wobbling,” Taryn said in her dispassionate way. “Do you require assistance?”

“No. I do not.”

Sassy could practically hear Grim grinding his jaw. For two superhumans who had a lot in common—same job, same “parent,” similar goals and interests—Taryn and Grim got along like couple of rabid possums trapped in a rain barrel.

In other words, like siblings.

Grim made a slight adjustment with his hands, and the car leveled out.

Meredith appeared on a gust of Happy perfume.

“Easy with the ride, Sugar Buns,” she told Grim. “I can’t haunt it if it’s a paperweight.”

Evan winced. “Volume, woman. You got a voice like a dentist drill.”

“Bite me, zombie boy,” Meredith said. “At least I don’t play with road kill.”

Evan had been responsible for the pile of dead animals outside the hut, not the Hag. Sassy still found it hard to process. She was in favor of recycling, but Evan’s strange ability was a little gross.

At least he hadn’t killed them. He’d raised the poor things in an attempt to free himself from the witch. You couldn’t blame the guy for that.

Being a zombie maker was Evan’s demonoid talent. He’d explained the whole thing over a breakfast of stale Cheerios and milk—compliments of a neighboring dairy farmer. Or so Taryn had said when she plucked two quarts of moo juice out of thin air.

Now that was a talent Sassy could use—being able to produce things by magic. A girl would never run out of things to wear. The fashion possibilities were endless.

According to Evan, every demonoid had talent, though some were more talented than others. His gift happened to be raising the dead. Back in the fall, Evan had used a zombie named Tommy to locate Rebekah, his long-lost twin; Conall’s wife, although they hadn’t been married at the time.

That’s how Evan and Meredith knew one another. Zombies were mumbling, stumbling, brain-eating corpses with no sense of self. But Tommy the Zombie had been different. Tommy Henderson had died young and suddenly. So suddenly his soul had been inadvertently sucked back into his body when Evan did his zombie thing.

A sentient zombie; the thought gave Sassy the heebies. Poor Tommy had known what he was and had hated it. Being trapped in a rotting corpse and consumed with an insatiable hunger for brains had been a double whammy for Tommy, a confirmed vegetarian. Desperate, Tommy hired Meredith to harangue Evan into letting him go, and it had worked.

“Like to drove me bug shit with her bitching,” Evan had mumbled around his cereal spoon earlier that morning.

Sassy didn’t doubt it for a second. She’d seen Meredith in action.

Grim guided the car off the roof and onto the driveway near the porch steps.

“Buns of steel and the man has mad skills.” Meredith glanced at her rose gold bracelet watch. “Gotta roll, hos. Meeting with a client. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

She dissipated on a cloud of fragrance.

Evan sneezed hard. “Dayum, hard on the ears and the sinuses.” He jumped behind the wheel of the sports car. “I say we salt the place and keep the bitch out.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Sassy said. “This is her home.”

“You are such a lollipop.” Evan ran his hands along the ergonomic three-spoke steering wheel. “Guess that’s why everybody likes you.”

“The witch doesn’t like me.”

Evan looked up at her from behind the wheel. Gracious, he was a heartbreaker. Those eyes: dark violet fringed with sooty lashes.

“Oh, she likes you, Sassafras.” Evan grinned. “She likes you too much.”

Taryn made a slow circuit around the car. “This is most excellent workmanship. Is it elvish?”

“Eye-talian.” Evan stroked the wood grain dashboard. “Bet this baby used to go zero to sixty in a matter of seconds.”

“Used to go?” Sassy cried. “But it looks good as new.”

“Sorry, Lolly. You totaled this puppy.” Evan’s voice held regret. “Hope your stepdaddy has good insurance.”

“Totaled?” Sassy’s heart sank. “Oh, no.”

Grim propped his hip against the side of the car and crossed his booted feet at the ankles. “The machine will work.”

“Hel-lo. Combustion engine?” Evan waved his hands. “Cars and water don’t mix. Sure, it could probably be rebuilt, but most people with the money to score this kind of car don’t want the hassle.”

“It will work. A Dalvahni warrior does not lie.”

“A Dalvahni warrior is not a mechanic.” Evan twisted the key