Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,64
over to Dorothy Vader. As she groped for a polite way to say No, thank you, I’d rather not, an alarm sounded outside.
“That’s my car.” Sassy threw the lawyer and her aunt an apologetic smile. “Be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“I’ll go with you.” Evan opened the door and winced as the steady, high-pitched shrill from the street intensified. “I know my way around alarm systems.”
Susan Harwood looked down her patrician nose at Evan. “I have no doubt you do.”
Sassy dashed out the door and down the sidewalk to the screaming car with Evan at her heels. Sassy’s Grim-o-meter, which was always up and running, told her a certain demon hunter had followed, too.
Up and down the street, people poked their heads out of doors to investigate.
Sassy smiled and waved at them. “Sorry about the noise. It’s just my car.”
She patted the Maserati’s hood. “Good girl, Mea. That’s enough.”
The alarm stopped shrieking on cue.
“Huh.” Evan tugged his earring. “Must be malfunctioning.”
“No such thing. Mea rescued me. She knew I was in trouble.”
“You’re in trouble, all right, Lolly. Listen. You can’t sell the mill to your aunt.”
“I agree.” Grim’s expression was troubled. “There is something about that female I misdoubt.”
“I know.” Sassy sighed. “I hate to be negative, but I don’t think she’s a very nice person.”
“Nice?” Evan said. “She’s Blake Peterson’s twin.”
“So? I need a better reason than that not to sell her the mill.”
Evan made an exasperated noise. “Sassy, your grandfather was a powerful demonoid and one scary dude.”
“Explain,” Grim said.
“Old Blake claimed he had a weapon that would kill the Dalvahni. As you can imagine, the demons were very interested.” Evan leaned against the side of the car and crossed his ankles. “They promised to make him a big shot if he played nice and shared with them. Blake died in a fire and the deal fell through.”
Grim’s golden eyes went flat. “How do you know this?”
“I was raised by demons.” Evan’s sulky mouth twisted. “After Blake died, the ’rents sent me to Hannah to negotiate an arms deal with Trey. He got flattened by a car before we could tie things up.”
“Conall said you consorted with demons.” Grim’s sword appeared in his hand. The metal was etched with runes. Flames danced up and down the blade. “He failed to mention you conspired with the djegrali to kill the Dal.”
“Water under the bridge, Big ’Un. I’ve turned over a new leaf.”
“The leopard cannot change his spots.”
“You don’t believe me?” Evan smothered a fake yawn. “I’m tore up. Be a good little demon hunter and put the sword away. I’m Conall’s brother-in-law, remember?”
“I doubt he will mourn you overmuch.”
“Stick a hole in me and find out.”
Grim’s sword vanished. “Conall has instructed me not to kill you, and so I will forbear. But know this, Beck. I will be watching you. One misstep and you will feel the kiss of my blade.”
“Aw, Grimsey. You say the sweetest things.”
Sassy regarded Evan with mingled horror and sympathy. “You were raised by demons? That must have been awful.”
On impulse, she laid her hand on Evan’s arm and received an electric jolt as a stream of images flooded her brain. Awful? Evan’s life had been a grotesquerie. Tossed aside at birth like so much garbage, he’d been used and abused by the demons that found him.
New bodies, new thrills, bigger and better highs—more, the demons always wanted more. Evan satisfied his “parents’” every whim or suffered the consequences. And the consequences were harsh. Burns, beatings, broken bones, starvation, sensory deprivation; Evan had suffered it all.
If he tried to escape, they punished him. They wove a curse into his flesh to keep him bound to them. One word from the demons and the bindings tightened, cutting through skin and muscle, squeezing Evan’s throat until he passed out.
His demonoid ability to heal had been a curse and a blessing, healing him to suffer again and again. No love or tenderness, no happiness or respite from the certainty of abuse.
Somehow, Evan had survived the years of captivity and cruelty.
A disgusting odor permeated Sassy’s nostrils, and she recoiled. She was sharing Evan’s olfactory memories, too. Burnt popcorn and demon smelled a lot alike, she realized, wrinkling her nose in distaste. The constant reek of the demons’ rotting flesh had left Evan with a diminished appetite and a violent aversion to microwave popcorn.
Sassy jerked her hand away and the mini horror movie ended. If this was a side effect of her fairy injection, she didn’t want