Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,9

the sharp tang of green and growing things; the perfume of flowers; and the musty smell of dried pine and rotting leaves and lichen.

He stamped his hooves again. Sparks and whorls of multicolored light flew into the air, shimmering in bright spirals against the velvety darkness. The sparks coalesced into birds, flowers, and insects. The delicate creatures cavorted around the giant deer like bugs dancing in the warmth of a streetlight.

Sassy gasped in delight. It was lovely; fireworks without the smoke and noise. She stepped away from the tree, her limbs moving of their own accord. The stag tossed his antlered head, but did not bolt.

She met the stag’s limpid gaze and forgot to be afraid. She forgot she was bruised and sore. She forgot her damp clothes, her tangled, leaf-strewn hair. She forgot her stepfather’s ruined convertible.

She forgot everything but the stag’s liquid dark gaze, ancient and powerful, deep and full of knowing, like the forest itself.

He is the forest. The thought drifted, unbidden, through her befuddled mind. A glowing butterfly fluttered away from the dazzling shapes circling the stag’s splendid head and came to rest on Sassy’s outstretched hand. The tiny creature pulsed against her palm, delicate as spun glass.

“Oh, you beautiful thing,” Sassy whispered in delight, stroking the shining bug with her fingertip.

To her astonishment, the butterfly dissolved in a glowing puddle that seeped into her skin. Warmth fizzed through Sassy’s bloodstream, bubbles of champagne that left her light-headed and giddy. She giggled and did a clumsy pirouette. It would have been way better if she hadn’t been wearing the stupid boots.

The lights flitted away from the stag and into the darkness, trailing glittering bread crumbs in their wake.

“Wait,” Sassy cried. “Wait for me.”

She lifted the skirt of her sundress and dashed into the woods, plowing through bushes and around trees in pursuit of the willow-the-wisps. Thorn vines caught and tore at her hair. Branches scratched her bare arms and legs. The pain was fleeting, an annoying pinprick dismissed in her eager pursuit of the lights. Once, she stepped in a hole and fell, skinning her knees and the heels of her hands. She jumped up and dashed off again. Her vision seemed sharper now, and the lights were easy to follow. They silvered everything in their path and turned the woods into a glowing wonderland. The rest of her senses seemed keener, too. She heard the faint creak of roots stretching beneath the earth and smelled the myriad scents of the forest: growing things; the moist smell of dirt and wet leaves; the hot, slightly dusty smell of a nearby fox, panting from the hunt.

“I love nature,” Sassy sang, skipping through the woods. “It’s so . . . nature-y.”

The lights sped up, zigzagging through the shadows. Sassy ran faster, her lungs burning from exertion. She ran up and down hills, over streams, and ravines choked with pine straw, honeysuckle vines, and fallen branches. The lights moved farther and farther ahead.

“Wait,” she cried. “Don’t leave me.”

She tripped over a log and sprawled into a patch of rotten leaves. The impact knocked the breath out of her. She sat up, gasping for breath, and pushed the tangle of hair out of her face. Leaves and debris pricked the backs of her thighs. Her dress was twisted around her waist, her panties were wedged in her butt crack. She was bleeding and bruised, and her entire body hurt.

The lights were gone.

A breeze moaned through the trees, cooling her heated face and body. Her euphoria faded, and some of the fog lifted from her brain. There was something she was supposed to remember . . . something important.

Her stupor eased. The trail—she wasn’t supposed to leave the trail. Stick to the path and she’d come to a house. That’s what Junior had said.

Instead, she’d crashed headlong through the woods like a lunatic. It was a miracle she hadn’t broken something or stepped on a snake.

She sat on the ground a long time, thinking, registering her various aches and pains. At last, she reached a difficult, uncomfortable conclusion. This was not a dream, bad or otherwise, crazy as it seemed.

This was real.

The weirdness—enough to fill the ballroom at the Grand Hotel—she’d sort out later. Right now, she had a bigger problem. She was lost.

A slow and righteous anger kindled within her. Sassy had been irritated plenty of times. Being an upbeat person didn’t make you a pushover. Why, she’d even been miffed once or twice, usually at something Brandi Chambliss had