“Report to Conall, brother. Perhaps he can convince you.”
Grim stalked into the woods. “Dalvahni warriors conjugating? Duncan is unhinged. He should be removed from duty. That I will report to Conall, rest assured.”
Duncan’s account is accurate, the Provider said in his placid way. Brand was the first of your brothers to marry, followed by Rafe and Ansgar. Conall is the most recent Dalvahni warrior to take a bride.
Grim paused beneath a towering hickory. “To what end? If this is some deep scheme to outwit the djegrali, I do not fathom it.”
Demons have naught to do with it. Your brothers are in love.
“Love is a human emotion. The Dalvahni are impervious.”
Not long ago I would have agreed, but this “love” is a peculiar affliction. It strikes without warning and knows no barriers.
“Ridiculous,” Grim said. “Stop speaking in riddles and enlighten me. I would know more of this place.”
Magic runs deep in Hannah. Some strange and terrible property here attracts the supernatural, including the djegrali and the Dalvahni.
Grim growled. “Tread lightly, old friend. One does not speak of the Dal and the enemy in the same breath.”
This same quality has made it possible for the djegrali to propagate. The Provider ignored Grim’s censure and continued. A new species has arisen here, the offspring of demon-possessed mortals. They are called demonoids.
Shock coursed through Grim, sweeping aside his irritation. “Half human and half demon? Abomination. They must be eradicated at once. I will offer my sword arm to the task.”
Conall will not allow it.
“He wishes to destroy them himself?”
He considered it, but thought better of it. Conall, you see, has taken a demonoid to wife.
Grim’s mind reeled. Conall, the leader of the Dalvahni, married to a child of the enemy?
“You are misinformed,” he said. “Such a thing cannot be.”
They have signed their names in the Great Book. Kehvahn himself approved the match.
Kehvahn, the god who created the Dalvahni to track down rogue demons, had given his blessing to a match between demon hunter and demon spawn?
“Madness.” Grim shook his head in disbelief. “What of the Directive?”
Nothing in the Directive prohibits the Dalvahni from marrying. None of you have been so inclined before. The Provider’s voice grew sly. Perhaps you will be the next to succumb. You are curiously affected by a certain female.
“Nonsense. I have been too long absent from the House of Pleasure. That is all.”
As you say.
The Provider’s smug tone irked Grim. He opened his mouth to retort and was interrupted by a chilling howl.
Duncan materialized under the tree, his eyes aglow with a martial light. “You heard?”
“Aye,” Grim said. “What manner of demon is it?”
“Not a demon,” Duncan said. “The cry you heard was the Hag. She preys on children, but her blood lust knows no bounds.” His eyes glowed hotter. “Long have I sought her. Will you join me in the hunt, brother?”
A second undulating howl startled a fox from the underbrush. Grim lifted his head, listening. The Hag was on the move. From the sound of it, the creature was traveling swiftly in the direction of the bridge.
A winsome face rose before him, a pair of merry eyes and a laughing, curving mouth.
Grim drew his sword. “I must away. The female is alone and in danger.”
He reached for the bridge, and the world slid out of focus. He reappeared on the road and spun on his heels, sword in hand. The female was nowhere to be found. Rage and frustration seized him in a chokehold. Had the Hag taken her?
Duncan materialized at his side. “What female?”
“Sassy.” Saying her name was a relief. It slipped through Grim’s lips like a caress. “Her name is Sassy.”
Duncan’s brows rose. “I take it she is fetching, this Sassy?”
“Aye, and vexatious in the extreme. The chit has no notion of practicality.”
“I am intrigued.” Duncan looked around. “Produce me this remarkable female.”
“I cannot.” Lashing out with his blade, Grim sheared a metal strut in two. The pole creaked and buckled in two. “She is gone.”
Chapter Three
Spots danced in front of Sassy’s eyes. This was beyond silly. There were no such things as ghosts, or carnivorous deer, or skeletal, fanged ghouls. She was hallucinating. She’d hit her head when she wrecked the car. She had a concussion. She was in the hospital right now, hooked up to an IV.
The whole thing was a bad, trauma-induced dream.
She closed her eyes and counted to three before opening them again. The ghost was still there, looking remarkably solid.
Ok-a-a-y. She could freak out or go with the flow. Going with