Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,80
teenage girl’s body. Then she’d trapped the wraith in a bottle of hot sauce.
Turns out demons are allergic to hot sauce, a fun little fact his twin discovered.
Every time Evan got near Beck, his tenderhearted sister shook the container. The hot sauce scalded Hagilth. Since Evan was bound to the demon, it scalded him, too.
That shit burned.
Another warrior appeared. Another sonsabitching Dalvahni. What was this, a demon hunter convention?
“Who are you?” Evan demanded.
“This is Duncan,” Grim said. “He has a score to settle with the witch.”
“Get in line,” Evan said. “She’s mine.”
Duncan flashed a set of Hollywood white teeth. “Only if you get to her first.”
“We have much to discuss.” Conall addressed Grim. “Shall we meet on the morrow, brother?”
“Of a certainty.”
“Good. Come to the dunes on the outskirts of town at sunrise. Know you it?”
“I know where it is,” Evan said. “I can show him.”
“Excellent,” Conall said.
He disappeared. The warrior named Duncan vanished as well. Good riddance. Demon hunters gave Evan hives.
Tires sounded on the drive and a brown BMW came to a stop in front of the house. A barnyard brown Beamer. What nimrod forked out money on a car the color of cow shit?
The driver’s door opened and a norm got out. The man wore pink cargos, a starched button-down shirt, loafers, and a perfect tan, the kind you get from leisure, not work. Every strand of his sun-streaked hair was in place. He came around the car and opened the passenger door, and a plump thirtysomething woman in a pantsuit slid out. The name tag on her jacket said Dab Holt—Florala Realty.
The nimrod turned and gave them the once-over. “Clients of yours, Ms. Holt?”
The norm’s moneyed Southern drawl made Evan’s teeth hurt.
The woman looked flustered. “No. I’ve never seen them in my life.”
“Stay here. I’ll take of this.” The nimrod strolled over. “This is private property. You’re trespassing. Leave before I call the police.”
“Call the police, asshat,” Evan said. “We’re friends of the owner.”
The nimrod shot the woman standing by the car an I-told-you-so look.
“This is exactly the sort of thing I’ve been talking about,” he said. “Who are these people? Sometimes, Sassy can be such a child.”
Evan opened his mouth to tell the guy off. Too late. Grim grabbed the norm by the shirt and lifted him in the air.
The man’s shirt rode up, exposing his soft belly. There was a red welt around his midsection. Someone was too big for his little pink britches.
“Insolent pup, you will not speak of Sassy in such a tone.” Grim shook the guy like a pom-pom. “State your name and business at once.”
“Wesley Bodiford, Sassy’s fiancé.” The nimrod was red in the face. “I’ve come to take her home.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sassy examined the berries in her palm. They seemed harmless, but she’d read enough myths and fairy tales to be wary of gifts from strangers, especially the gods. Look what happened to poor Midas.
Still . . . The thought of being confined to bed for a month was horrid. She had things to do. Cancel the wedding, for one.
Sassy swallowed the knot in her throat. The social implications of ending her engagement would be huge.
There would be Talk. Mama hated Talk.
Easier to toss the berries in the trash and slink back home with her tail between her legs. Let her parents cosset her back to health. Do what was expected of her. Become Mrs. Wesley Eugene Bodiford.
Never see Grim again.
A shroud of lead settled over Sassy. Tears pricked her eyes. She gripped the edge of the comforter like a lifeline.
Thou art melancholy, Sassy. I wouldst offer thee succor, if thou wouldst have it.
Sassy wiped her eyes. Dell? Why are you talking so funny?
Whilst perusing the local archives I happened upon a fascinating saga by one David Eddings. I find the speech patterns of Mando-rallen, stalwart Mimbrate knight, particularly appealing.
I love the Belgariad. It’s one of my favorite series.
Dell was silent. I, too, suffer from melancholia now the tale is done.
Finishing a good book means leaving behind the friends you’ve made there. But other books are waiting.
A comforting thought. Why were you crying?
I was thinking of leaving Hannah. It made me sad.
Do you wish to return to your former life?
No.
Then stay. The choice is yours.
It’s not that easy. If I stay, my family and fiancé will be hurt. If I leave, people in Hannah will lose their jobs.
That is a conundrum. Mortal existence is a complicated business, is it not?