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Synopsis
Demon-slayers, evil forces, and an uber-bitchy ghost. . . Hotter Than A Demon In Panties Evie Douglass doesn't know what's worse--the demons secretly infesting her small Alabama hometown. . .or human belle-from-hell Meredith Starr Peterson, who's made her life miserable since high school. But when the "Death Starr" is brutally murdered and Evie is the number-one suspect, she's suddenly besieged by the evil-not-dead-enough and Meredith's furious specter. The only way she can clear her name is to get out from under demon hunter Ansgar's grim protection. He's blond, breathtaking, and the most lethal of all his kin, but after years of teasing, Evie is wary of anyone who swears her plus-size self is beautiful. However, having Ansgar all over her is sparking outrageous powers Evie didn't know she had. And she'll face any ultimate evil to keep this sexy slayer in this dimension and in her bed for all eternity. . . Praise for Demon Hunting in Dixie "A demonically wicked good time." --Angie Fox "A not-to-be-missed Southern-fried, bawdy, hilarious romp." --Beverly Barton, New York Times bestselling author "A genuinely funny new voice in paranormal romance." -- Publishers Weekly
Release date: March 22, 2016
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Print pages: 370
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Demon Hunting in the Deep South
Lexi George
Blood. There was so much blood, especially on the dead woman sprawled across her desk.
Evie stared in shock at the corpse from the doorway of her office. Death did not become Meredith Starr Peterson. She lay on her back like a broken doll, her blue eyes open and staring, her carefully painted mouth twisted in a frozen scream. The pink sheath dress she wore was hitched around her white thighs. One designer stiletto pump was missing, and her matching pink ruffle-pleat cardigan was ripped and torn. The blade sticking out of her chest didn’t do anything for her, either.
Evie’s heart jerked in a crazy rhythm. Oh, God, what was happening?
Pulling her stunned gaze from Meredith’s body, she looked around. Outside, things at the lumber mill seemed normal. A forklift rumbled past her window on its way to the holding yard, and in the distance she heard the muted whine of the saw and the barker. But inside things were a nightmare. Her once neat office looked like a slaughterhouse. Spatters of blood stained the beige carpet and khaki walls, ran in thin rivulets down her filing cabinets, and dripped off the framed print hanging over the bookcase. There were red streaks of it on the window and splashes on her brand-new ergonomic desk chair. Crimson polka dots decorated the paperwork strewn around the room.
The room smelled of death and something else. Scents, Evie knew. Soap-making was her hobby and her passion. The rich, fruity scent of frankincense overlaid the nauseating odor of something rotten.
She swayed and grabbed the door frame, her stomach rebelling. She needed to get out of here, but she couldn’t seem to move. She kept staring at Meredith’s poor, tortured body. Whoever killed her had taken his time. The victim was covered in blood from dozens of shallow cuts and stab wounds. The murderer must have chased poor Meredith around Evie’s office, whittling at her as she ran. Playing with her and taking his time. Enjoying her pain.
When he tired of the game, he stabbed Meredith in the chest, pinning her to the desk like a bug.
Evie shuddered. Meredith looked so small . . . so pathetic. Hard to believe this shattered thing was her nemesis since the seventh grade—the cool, popular kid who called her Fatso and the Whale.
On Wednesday, Meredith had publicly accused Evie of having an affair with her husband, Trey Peterson, the heir apparent to the Peterson timber fortune. Evie’s boss.
And now it was Friday and Meredith was dead in her office.
The handle of the knife in Meredith’s chest glittered in the early-morning sunshine. It was mesmerizing, hypnotizing. Evie took a step inside the room. No, not a knife, she realized in dawning terror as she got a better look. Meredith had been murdered with a letter opener. Her letter opener, the silver one engraved with her initials, a recent gift from Trey. The man she was supposed to be having an affair with.
Oh, this was not good. This was definitely not good.
She drew closer. Funny thing about that letter opener. The handle was clean. Spotless and obscene in its shininess. Not a drop of blood on it.
She wanted to look away, to run screaming from the room, but she couldn’t. Some invisible force dragged her reluctant feet to the desk, like iron to a lodestone. Inside her head, she heard a chilling, relentless litany.
Touch it. Touch the knife. The evil whisper filled her mind.
Shaking with the effort to resist the compulsion, she reached for the letter opener, tears of fright and frustration dampening her cheeks.
“Evangeline, no.”
The deep, compelling voice rang out, shattering the spell. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her and jerked her away from the desk. She caught a brief whiff of an intoxicating scent, a subtle, dizzying combination of cedar with notes of lavender and bergamot. Whoever her secret savior was, he smelled divine.
The spicy scent stirred a whisper of memory deep within her. It fractured and flew apart as she was lifted and sent spinning into nothingness. There was a brief, falling sensation, and then she was sitting on her front porch steps.
Dazed, Evie looked around, trying to focus on her new surroundings. What happened? How’d she get here? Her office at Peterson’s Lumber Mill was five miles outside of town. She must be in shock. Yeah, that was it. She drove herself home but didn’t remember doing so because of the trauma. There was no other explanation.
She looked around. No car. It was like she’d fallen out of the sky and onto her front porch. Oh, God, this was nuts.
Shivering, she rubbed her arms and encountered a leather strap. She still had her purse on her shoulder. With shaking hands, she reached inside, retrieved her cell phone, and dialed 911.
As she hung up the phone, a Pepto-Bismol-pink van pulled into the driveway and stopped. It was her friend, Addy, in the delivery van from her flower shop.
Addy got out and strode up the sidewalk. Her white-blond hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that bounced with every step. She was dressed for work in a clingy silk top and a knee-length skirt that showcased her long, sleekly muscled legs. Some of Evie’s panic receded when she saw her best friend. Addy would stand by her, no matter what. Together, they’d figure this thing out. They were as close as sisters despite their obvious differences. Addy was beautiful, funny, and a smartass to her DNA, not shy like Evie.
“I came to see about you.” Addy’s brown eyes were wide with concern. “You all right, chicka?”
“How did you know something was wrong?” Evie felt a brief flare of hope. “Did the fairies tell you?”
“Nope. Ansgar did.”
Something thrummed deep inside Evie, a tiny thrill of recognition. It happened every time she heard Addy or Brand mention Ansgar’s name, which was weird since she’d never met the guy.
“Brand’s brother?” She shook her head in confusion. Brand Dalvahni was Addy’s darkly handsome, intimidating, demon slayer boyfriend. The guy who saved Addy from certain death at the hands of a rogue demon and put her through the Change, as Evie and Addy referred to the infusion of demon slayer essence that transformed Addy from a human being to Something Else. An immortal super chick with lightning reflexes, stealth speed, and a buttload of Dalvahni sex appeal. “How did he know about Meredith?”
Oh, God. Meredith. Evie saw again the crumpled, bleeding figure across her desk.
“Meredith?” Addy’s eyes narrowed. Addy hated Meredith. “What’s she got to do with this?”
“You mean you don’t know? He didn’t tell you?”
“No, he didn’t tell me anything. Just showed up at the shop and started ordering me around in that arrogant way of his. You know what a hemorrhoid he is.”
“No, I don’t. We’ve never met, remember?”
Addy looked oddly flustered. “Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting. Trust me when I say he’s irritating as all get-out. Anyway, he says you need me, and then he disappears. So, what’s going on?”
“Oh, Addy.” Evie buried her face in her hands. “Meredith is dead.”
“Dead?” Addy gave her a blank stare. “What do you mean ‘dead’?”
“Somebody killed her. In my office. I found her this morning when I went in to work.”
Addy sat down on the steps and put her arm around Evie’s shoulders. “Are you sure, babe?”
“I’m sure. I saw it.” Raising her head, Evie shivered. “It was awful. There was blood everywhere. And she had my letter opener buried in her chest.” She clasped her shaking hands together in her lap. “My office, my letter opener. Remember Meredith’s little scene in the flower shop two days ago, the one where she accused me in front of God and everybody of sleeping with Trey? People will think I did it.”
“The Death Starr’s dead? I can’t believe it.”
Evie winced. Since middle school, she and Addy had called Meredith the Death Starr because of her ability to zero in on people like a super laser and annihilate them in one fell swoop. But now that she was dead, it didn’t seem respectful to call her that.
“Did you touch anything?” Addy asked. “Please tell me you didn’t touch anything.”
“No,” Evie said. “But it was close. Something was in that office with me, Addy. Something evil. It wanted me to grab the letter opener.” She shivered. “I heard it talking inside my head. I was reaching for the letter opener when someone said my name.”
“Who said your name, the creepy whatzit?”
“No, this was somebody else. He called me Evangeline, not Evie, which is weird. Nobody’s called me that since Mama died.” Evie rubbed her temples. Her head was beginning to throb. Probably another migraine; she’d had them a lot lately. “The next thing I know, I’m sitting here. Oh, Addy, I don’t understand any of this. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Relax, Eves, Ansgar must have brought you home. I take back everything I said about him. Okay, maybe not everything, but the hemorrhoid part anyway.”
“But why would he do that? He doesn’t know me. And how did he get me home? I don’t remember being in a car.”
Addy snorted. “Who said anything about a car? We’re talking about the Dalvahni here. Ten to one, Ansgar teleported you here.”
“Teleported me?” Evie blinked in surprise. “Oh, my goodness.”
“Dalvahni woo woo, chicka. Demon hunters are loaded with it.” Her lips curved in a cat-in-the-cream-pot smile. “In more ways than one.”
Evie felt a pang of envy. The sexual attraction between Addy and Brand was so smoking hot you’d have to be dead not to notice. You could almost see the pheromones in the air when those two were together, which was most of the time. Brand Dalvahni loved him some Addy Corwin; that was for sure.
“I wouldn’t know,” Evie said. “Well . . . be sure and thank him for me. It was nice of him to get me out of there.” She shivered. “It was horrible, Addy. Just horrible.”
“Thank him yourself. Hannah’s a small town, you know. I got a feeling you’ll be seeing more of him.”
Addy got to her feet.
Evie grabbed her arm. “Where are you going? Don’t leave me! I need you.”
“Relax,” Addy said. “You’re going with me. We’ll go get your car and bring it back here. You can call in sick. No one will ever know you were there.”
“I’ve already called nine-one-one. The police are on their way.”
“Oh, man.” Addy sank back onto the step. “You are such a rule-follower, Evie Douglass.”
“I know.” Evie sighed. “But you love me anyway, right?”
“Shit, I reckon,” Addy said.
“Addy.” Evie looked around. “Your mama hears you cussing and there’ll be h-e-l-l to pay.”
Addy’s mama, Bitsy Corwin, was a force to be reckoned with. Evie loved her to pieces, but the woman scared the bejesus out of her.
“You don’t have to spell it, Eves. The Bitser’s not here. She can’t hear me.”
“Huh. That woman has ears like an elephant when it comes to your potty mouth.”
“Don’t I know it?” Addy was silent. After a moment, she said, “You realize that voice inside your head wasn’t human.”
A chill ran down Evie’s spine. “Yeah, I thought about that.”
“And that there’s probably a demon involved? Maybe even that a demon killed Meredith?”
“Thought about that, too.”
It wouldn’t be the first time a demon caused trouble in Hannah. There was something very strange about their little town.
“The demon might come after you next. You’d better stay with me for a while until it’s safe.”
Evie snorted. “Me underfoot all the time? Won’t Brand love that?”
“Brand will have to deal. You’re my best friend.”
“Thanks,” she said, “but I’ll stay here. The fairies will warn me.”
Addy gave her a curious, almost hopeful look. “I thought you said you couldn’t see them anymore?”
A wave of grief washed over Evie. She’d been able to see fairies as long as she could remember, although she’d only recently shared her gift with Addy. Seeing fairies wasn’t something you went around talking about, not even to your best friend. Not if you didn’t want people to think you were a loon.
She inherited her ability from her mother. It was a special bond they shared, a connection she treasured, especially since her mother’s death. And then, inexplicably, one day not long ago, she couldn’t see fairies anymore.
She swallowed the ball of sadness in her throat. “I can’t see or hear them, but they rattle the wind chimes to let me know they’re there. They’ll warn me if something bad comes, and they’ll protect me.”
Addy grunted, but she sounded unconvinced. “Fairies and demons and demon slayers, oh my! Who would’ve thunk boring, little Hannah, Alabama, would turn out to be the supernatural Vegas truck stop of the universe.”
“Hannah’s never been boring, Addy. You just couldn’t see it.”
“Huh. Well, I see it now.” Addy straightened as two cars pulled up to the curb. “Here come Chief Davis and the sheriff. What are you going to tell them?”
“The truth. What else?”
Addy groaned. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
Ansgar stood beneath a sprawling oak near Evangeline’s front porch, listening as she conversed with her friend Addy. Evie could not see him. As a Dalvahni demon hunter, he could make himself invisible. But he could see her.
And hear her.
By the gods, he’d missed her. He stood in the green shadows and drank in the sultry sound of her voice. Each soft, drawling utterance from her lips played upon his senses until he thought he would go mad with need.
He’d met her but a few months past, when he’d come to Earth with his brother Brand in pursuit of a group of rogue demons. It had seemed an ordinary mission, like countless others through the centuries. He and Brand would execute their task with brutal efficiency, round up the demons, and remove all trace of their presence here. Afterward, they would return to the Hall of Warriors to await their next assignment.
Such was the way of the Dalvahni warrior.
Things had quickly spiraled out of control when Brand fell under Addy Corwin’s spell. ’Twas a thing unheard of in the history of the Dalvahni, Brand’s unseemly affection for the Corwin woman.
Ansgar had been baffled by his brother’s odd behavior. True, he had been charmed by Addy’s friend, Evangeline Douglass. But he was no weakling like his brother, who’d succumbed to this peculiar affliction called “love.” Bah.
He and Brand had completed their mission, capturing the djegrali after a battle in the town square. During the fray, Evangeline had been taken by a demon. Ansgar could see her still, white-faced with terror, beseeching him to slay her, less terrified of death than of demonic possession. And with good reason. A human possessed had no will, no choice. They were the demon’s plaything, under the creature’s control until their body was used up and the demon discarded them for fresher meat.
Hands shaking, Ansgar had nocked an arrow in his bow and shot Evangeline through the heart. The demon had abandoned her dying body as such creatures were wont to do—a demon trapped in death with a human dies also.
Ansgar had dispatched the demon with another arrow and, taking Evangeline in his arms, he’d saved her from death, infusing her with his essence. She’d awakened, fully healed and no longer human.
And with no memory of him.
’Twas for the best, he’d told himself. He left, with no intention of returning.
To his astonishment, the months away from her—what should have been a mere heartbeat of time in the life span of the ageless Dalvahni—had been an endless agony. He’d fought his feelings for her, losing himself in the hunt and the emptying embrace of a thrall, sexual creatures designed to sate a Dalvahni warrior’s physical needs and empty them of battle rage and lust. Both species found the relationship to their advantage. The Dalvahni, drained of unnecessary feelings, were unhampered in battle, and the thralls were strengthened and sustained by Dalvahni emotion.
But love? The Dalvahni did not love.
The Dalvahni were immortal warriors created for a singular purpose. To hunt the djegrali, demons that had slipped the confines of their own dimension, and return them to their proper place or kill them if need be. Left unchecked, the djegrali invariably wreaked havoc upon mortals.
But his struggle had been in vain. Nothing could erase his memories of Evangeline. She was always there in the back of his mind, beckoning; light in an eternity of darkness, warmth and laughter and hope after eons of bleakness and grim, unrelenting duty. She was fever and longing and need. The scent, feel, and taste of her a craving that could not be extinguished by distance, time, or the emotion-sucking clasp of a succubus sex slave.
He abhorred his hunger for her, but at long last he accepted it. He was a fool to think he could forget. Acknowledging his defeat, he’d come back, knowing she would not remember him or their brief, sweet time together. He’d told himself it was enough to be near her, to stand over her as she slept, listening to the steady sound of her breathing, each soft exhalation of air from her lungs music to his lonely soul. He appointed himself her unseen guardian as she went about her daily tasks, following at her heels like a lovesick boy.
Gods, he was pathetic. But he could not resist her. He had not the strength or the will to try.
But neither could he be with her. She was his exquisite torture, his bane, and his every desire. But she was beyond his reach. He had put her there.
She reached up and nervously tugged at a lock of her long hair, an unconscious gesture he knew well. He remembered everything about her, the arch of her slender feet, the sweet curve of her rounded bottom, the satiny feel of her skin beneath his fingers and lips.
She, on the other hand, remembered nothing of him, and it was better so. He had hurt her, brought her nigh unto death with an arrow fired from his own bow, and for that he could not forgive himself. Nor was that the least of his transgressions. He had changed her. She was Dalvahni now, although she did not know it. And because of him, because of the change he had wrought in her, Evangeline could no longer see her beloved fairies. This, too, he’d taken from her. She would hate him for it if she knew, and that he could not bear.
No, it was better this way, although keeping his distance from her was the hardest thing he had ever done. He was fated, it seemed, to spend forever longing for a woman he could not have. There was a certain irony in that.
A dark blue vehicle with the word SHERIFF inscribed in silver letters on the door eased to a stop in front of Evie’s house. Close behind it was a gray automobile with HANNAH POLICE written on the side. A distinguished-looking man with silver hair at his temples got out of the gray car. Carl E. Davis, the Chief of Police in Hannah. Ansgar remembered him from his previous visit here. Davis was courting Addy Corwin’s widowed mother, Bitsy. Ansgar felt sorry for the man. All of the females in that family were unmanageable, to put it mildly. And his brother, Brand, had willingly bound himself to one of them. Madness. Ansgar shook his head at the thought. Addy Corwin was the most annoying creature he’d ever met.
But that was Brand’s affair and not his, thank the gods.
A tall, broad-shouldered man Ansgar did not recognize climbed out of the other car. The metal badge on the front of his light brown shirt glittered in the sunshine. He was much younger than Chief Davis and moved with a predatory grace that marked him as a hunter. Ansgar frowned. This man might be clad in modern raiment, but he was a warrior nonetheless. . . and dangerous. There was something different about him, although Ansgar could not say what. His protective instincts aroused, Ansgar opened his senses. He did not detect the taint of the djegrali on the human. Still, something about the stranger made him wary, and he moved closer to the porch and Evie.
To Ansgar’s surprise, the man in the brown shirt turned and scanned the area as if sensing his presence. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, but the expression on his lean face was watchful. His gaze lingered on the spot where Ansgar stood for a moment and then moved on.
Ansgar’s warrior instincts shrieked in warning. The Dalvahni had many gifts at their disposal, including invisibility, unsurpassed tracking skills, and stealth. And, yet, this man seemed to detect something amiss. A formidable opponent, indeed, Ansgar thought grimly, and one to be watched.
Evie got to her feet as the two men approached her. Her hazel eyes were wide, her cheeks and lips pale. She was frightened. Something twisted inside Ansgar. The need to comfort her was a raw, physical ache. It was all he could do not to rush to her side.
She stood on the steps, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her lush body was disguised by a shapeless, cotton dress; her glorious red hair was partially hidden beneath a matching kerchief. She was all woman. Full, high breasts, a waist so tiny a man could span it with his hands, and curving, generous hips. But she could not see her own beauty.
To him, she was luscious, the essence of feminine beauty, but the cruel taunts of others and the repressive demands of her now dead father had convinced her otherwise. In their once-before, the precious days they’d spent together before he left, he’d coaxed her out of her shell. She had emerged a fragile, breathtaking creature, her burgeoning confidence as thin and brittle as ice in a spring thaw. But that brief rebirth was forgotten, wiped out by a silver arrow from his quiver and her brush with the djegrali and death.
“Chief Davis.” Ansgar heard a touch of relief in Evie’s voice at the sight of a familiar face. “I didn’t expect to see you.” Next, she met the tall stranger at the foot of the steps and held out her hand. “I’m Evie Douglass. I found Meredith this morning when I went in to work and called nine-one-one. Are you a deputy?”
“This is Sheriff Whitsun, Evie,” Chief Davis said.
Evie blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I expected someone older.”
“And uglier.” The chief nudged the younger man with his elbow. “Dev gets that a lot. Ain’t that right, pretty boy?”
Ansgar watched the human called Whitsun. In his experience, human males often interacted with one another through mockery, whether good natured or derogatory. Whitsun, however, did not react to the chief’s jibe. His expression remained as impassive as any Dalvahni warrior. Most unusual and alarming.
The sheriff turned his attention to Addy. “And you are?”
Addy rose to her feet. “Addy Corwin.”
A rectangular box on the sheriff ’s belt squawked. “ ’Scuse me,” he said. He pushed a button and spoke into the device. “Go ahead.”
A crackling voice emerged from the contraption. “We got a homicide at Peterson’s Lumber Mill, Dev. Adult white female. Multiple stab wounds.”
“Lock it down and don’t touch anything. I’m on my way.” The sheriff clipped the device back onto his belt and turned to Evie. “I have to go to the scene. Three of my deputies are out with the stomach flu and we’re short staffed. Would you mind coming to my office to make your statement?”
“No, of course not,” Evie said.
“Thank you. That would be a big help. I’ll have one of my men drive you to the office.”
Addy bristled. “Why can’t she make her statement at the police station? She knows the chief and will feel more comfortable talking to him.”
“The mill’s outside of town, Addy,” the chief said. “This is county business.”
Addy crossed her arms and looked stubborn. “Then I’m going with her.”
“You’re welcome to wait for Miss Douglass in the reception area while she makes her statement,” the sheriff said. “I’ll warn you, though. Sometimes these things take a while.”
“The wheels of justice grind slowly, is that it?” Addy said in a belligerent tone.
Evie laid her hand on Addy’s arm. “Addy, please, the sheriff’s just trying to do his job.” She gave Whitsun a wan smile that pierced Ansgar’s heart. “We’ve been friends since elementary school, and she’s a little overprotective.”
“That’s quite all right, ma’am. I understand.” The sheriff looked at the chief. “Carl, would you mind waiting here with Miss Douglass until my deputy gets here?”
“Be glad to,” the chief said. “Anything we can do to help, you let me know.”
“I’ll do that.”
With a curt nod, Sheriff Whitsun left.
The chief took Evie by the elbow and guided her up the steps. “You look a little puny, Evie. Why don’t we sit on the porch and maybe Addy can get us a little something to drink?”
“I am feeling a little dizzy.” Evie gave Addy a pleading look. “There’s sweet tea in the fridge, Addy. Would you mind?”
“Course not, although I don’t think I should leave you alone with the Po-Po.” Addy paused at the front door and scowled at the chief. “Don’t you try any of that sneaky cop stuff while I’m gone, you hear? Evie, you holler if he does and I’ll come running.”
“Oh, for the love of—” The chief gave Addy an exasperated look. “Do you think I’d do that to Evie? I’ve known you two girls all your lives. For Christ’s sake, Addy, I date your mother.”
“Huh,” Addy said with a sniff. “You’re the Man now, Chief, and everybody knows you can’t trust the Man.” She started inside and took a step back. “And you’d better not let Bitsy hear you calling Our Lord and Savior out his name, or your ass will be grass and Mama will mow it.”
Addy was standing at the counter in the kitchen when Ansgar materialized at her elbow.
“There is something peculiar about the human called Whitsun,” he said without preamble. “I do not trust him.”
Addy shrieked and almost dropped the pitcher she was holding. “Blondy, don’t sneak up on me like that. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Irritation spiked along his nerves. “As I have told you many times, my name is Ansgar, not Blondy. As for your question, I assume it was rhetorical. You are Dalvahni now. We do not suffer heart attacks or other human maladies.”
Addy rolled her eyes. “Same old Blondy. About as much fun as a kidney stone. God, I’m soooo glad you’re back. Not.”
“My cup of joy overfloweth at seeing you as well. Tell me about this Whitsun. Who is he?”
Addy shrugged and set the pitcher on the counter. “I don’t know much about him, except he’s not from Hannah. Grew up somewhere out in the county. But he seems like an all right guy to me.”
“He is not ‘all right,’ ” Ansgar said. “I do not like him.”
Addy gave him a shrewd glance. “You don’t like anything with a pecker that gets around Evie. Why don’t you stop moping around and introduce yourself? Or should I say reintroduce? We both know she’s the reason you’re here.”
“A Dalvahni warrior does not mope.”
“Huh. Could have fooled me. You’ve been following Evie around like a dog that’s lost its bone.”
Irksome woman. Her description of him mirrored his own gloomy thoughts, which made her remark sting all the more.
“I came back to Hannah because I was assigned to this realm,” he said through his teeth. “The presence and number of djegrali in this place are most peculiar. Conall thought reinforcements necessary.”
“Oh, yeah?” Addy raised her brows. “And I suppose you just happened to be out at Peterson’s this morning when Evie got into trouble?”
“That is correct.”
“Horse hockey.” Addy placed the drink glasses on a wooden tray. “You’ve been shadowing Evie for weeks. Not eating. Not sleeping. Standing by her bed at night like a creeper.”
“Who told you this?”
Addy gave him a sweet smile. “The fairies told Mr. Fluffy Fauntleroy, who told Dooley, who told me.”
Mr. Fluffy Fauntleroy was the ridiculous moniker Addy gave the fairy cat that had inexplicably attached itself to her. Dooley was her dog, her big, yellow talking dog. Ansgar made a mental note to have a word with both creatures.
“Don’t tell Evie about the fairies,” Addy said with a frown. “It would make her feel bad.”
“I would never do anything to hurt Evie.”
“Hate to break it to you, Blondy, but you already have. First you shot her in the chest. With. An. Arrow. Gotta tell you, I was majorly pissed about that one. But I calmed down a little once I realized you had to do it to save her from the demon. And you did heal her, I’ll give you that much. But then you left. Pfft. Just when I was starting to think you liked her.”
Liked her? Liked her? Was the woman mad? He adored Evangeline. Not that he would admit it to Addy. His feelings for Evangeline were no one else’s affair.
“I did not hurt her by leaving. She does not remember me.”
“Oh, yeah? Then how come she’s been walking around like something dead since you skedaddled out of here?”
Skedaddle. It took Ansgar a moment to translate the strange term. Skedaddle: to run away, as if in fright.
He stiffened in affront. “She is melancholy because she lost the sight. It is a great loss, but she will adjust, in time.”
“Sure, she misses not being able to see the little guys.” To Ansgar’s surprise, angry tears filled Addy’s eyes. “But that’s not why she’s so sad. You broke her heart, you big jerk. I know, because I felt the same way when Brand left me. Only, it’s worse for Evie ’cause she doesn’t know her heart is broken. There’s a big
Evie stared in shock at the corpse from the doorway of her office. Death did not become Meredith Starr Peterson. She lay on her back like a broken doll, her blue eyes open and staring, her carefully painted mouth twisted in a frozen scream. The pink sheath dress she wore was hitched around her white thighs. One designer stiletto pump was missing, and her matching pink ruffle-pleat cardigan was ripped and torn. The blade sticking out of her chest didn’t do anything for her, either.
Evie’s heart jerked in a crazy rhythm. Oh, God, what was happening?
Pulling her stunned gaze from Meredith’s body, she looked around. Outside, things at the lumber mill seemed normal. A forklift rumbled past her window on its way to the holding yard, and in the distance she heard the muted whine of the saw and the barker. But inside things were a nightmare. Her once neat office looked like a slaughterhouse. Spatters of blood stained the beige carpet and khaki walls, ran in thin rivulets down her filing cabinets, and dripped off the framed print hanging over the bookcase. There were red streaks of it on the window and splashes on her brand-new ergonomic desk chair. Crimson polka dots decorated the paperwork strewn around the room.
The room smelled of death and something else. Scents, Evie knew. Soap-making was her hobby and her passion. The rich, fruity scent of frankincense overlaid the nauseating odor of something rotten.
She swayed and grabbed the door frame, her stomach rebelling. She needed to get out of here, but she couldn’t seem to move. She kept staring at Meredith’s poor, tortured body. Whoever killed her had taken his time. The victim was covered in blood from dozens of shallow cuts and stab wounds. The murderer must have chased poor Meredith around Evie’s office, whittling at her as she ran. Playing with her and taking his time. Enjoying her pain.
When he tired of the game, he stabbed Meredith in the chest, pinning her to the desk like a bug.
Evie shuddered. Meredith looked so small . . . so pathetic. Hard to believe this shattered thing was her nemesis since the seventh grade—the cool, popular kid who called her Fatso and the Whale.
On Wednesday, Meredith had publicly accused Evie of having an affair with her husband, Trey Peterson, the heir apparent to the Peterson timber fortune. Evie’s boss.
And now it was Friday and Meredith was dead in her office.
The handle of the knife in Meredith’s chest glittered in the early-morning sunshine. It was mesmerizing, hypnotizing. Evie took a step inside the room. No, not a knife, she realized in dawning terror as she got a better look. Meredith had been murdered with a letter opener. Her letter opener, the silver one engraved with her initials, a recent gift from Trey. The man she was supposed to be having an affair with.
Oh, this was not good. This was definitely not good.
She drew closer. Funny thing about that letter opener. The handle was clean. Spotless and obscene in its shininess. Not a drop of blood on it.
She wanted to look away, to run screaming from the room, but she couldn’t. Some invisible force dragged her reluctant feet to the desk, like iron to a lodestone. Inside her head, she heard a chilling, relentless litany.
Touch it. Touch the knife. The evil whisper filled her mind.
Shaking with the effort to resist the compulsion, she reached for the letter opener, tears of fright and frustration dampening her cheeks.
“Evangeline, no.”
The deep, compelling voice rang out, shattering the spell. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her and jerked her away from the desk. She caught a brief whiff of an intoxicating scent, a subtle, dizzying combination of cedar with notes of lavender and bergamot. Whoever her secret savior was, he smelled divine.
The spicy scent stirred a whisper of memory deep within her. It fractured and flew apart as she was lifted and sent spinning into nothingness. There was a brief, falling sensation, and then she was sitting on her front porch steps.
Dazed, Evie looked around, trying to focus on her new surroundings. What happened? How’d she get here? Her office at Peterson’s Lumber Mill was five miles outside of town. She must be in shock. Yeah, that was it. She drove herself home but didn’t remember doing so because of the trauma. There was no other explanation.
She looked around. No car. It was like she’d fallen out of the sky and onto her front porch. Oh, God, this was nuts.
Shivering, she rubbed her arms and encountered a leather strap. She still had her purse on her shoulder. With shaking hands, she reached inside, retrieved her cell phone, and dialed 911.
As she hung up the phone, a Pepto-Bismol-pink van pulled into the driveway and stopped. It was her friend, Addy, in the delivery van from her flower shop.
Addy got out and strode up the sidewalk. Her white-blond hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that bounced with every step. She was dressed for work in a clingy silk top and a knee-length skirt that showcased her long, sleekly muscled legs. Some of Evie’s panic receded when she saw her best friend. Addy would stand by her, no matter what. Together, they’d figure this thing out. They were as close as sisters despite their obvious differences. Addy was beautiful, funny, and a smartass to her DNA, not shy like Evie.
“I came to see about you.” Addy’s brown eyes were wide with concern. “You all right, chicka?”
“How did you know something was wrong?” Evie felt a brief flare of hope. “Did the fairies tell you?”
“Nope. Ansgar did.”
Something thrummed deep inside Evie, a tiny thrill of recognition. It happened every time she heard Addy or Brand mention Ansgar’s name, which was weird since she’d never met the guy.
“Brand’s brother?” She shook her head in confusion. Brand Dalvahni was Addy’s darkly handsome, intimidating, demon slayer boyfriend. The guy who saved Addy from certain death at the hands of a rogue demon and put her through the Change, as Evie and Addy referred to the infusion of demon slayer essence that transformed Addy from a human being to Something Else. An immortal super chick with lightning reflexes, stealth speed, and a buttload of Dalvahni sex appeal. “How did he know about Meredith?”
Oh, God. Meredith. Evie saw again the crumpled, bleeding figure across her desk.
“Meredith?” Addy’s eyes narrowed. Addy hated Meredith. “What’s she got to do with this?”
“You mean you don’t know? He didn’t tell you?”
“No, he didn’t tell me anything. Just showed up at the shop and started ordering me around in that arrogant way of his. You know what a hemorrhoid he is.”
“No, I don’t. We’ve never met, remember?”
Addy looked oddly flustered. “Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting. Trust me when I say he’s irritating as all get-out. Anyway, he says you need me, and then he disappears. So, what’s going on?”
“Oh, Addy.” Evie buried her face in her hands. “Meredith is dead.”
“Dead?” Addy gave her a blank stare. “What do you mean ‘dead’?”
“Somebody killed her. In my office. I found her this morning when I went in to work.”
Addy sat down on the steps and put her arm around Evie’s shoulders. “Are you sure, babe?”
“I’m sure. I saw it.” Raising her head, Evie shivered. “It was awful. There was blood everywhere. And she had my letter opener buried in her chest.” She clasped her shaking hands together in her lap. “My office, my letter opener. Remember Meredith’s little scene in the flower shop two days ago, the one where she accused me in front of God and everybody of sleeping with Trey? People will think I did it.”
“The Death Starr’s dead? I can’t believe it.”
Evie winced. Since middle school, she and Addy had called Meredith the Death Starr because of her ability to zero in on people like a super laser and annihilate them in one fell swoop. But now that she was dead, it didn’t seem respectful to call her that.
“Did you touch anything?” Addy asked. “Please tell me you didn’t touch anything.”
“No,” Evie said. “But it was close. Something was in that office with me, Addy. Something evil. It wanted me to grab the letter opener.” She shivered. “I heard it talking inside my head. I was reaching for the letter opener when someone said my name.”
“Who said your name, the creepy whatzit?”
“No, this was somebody else. He called me Evangeline, not Evie, which is weird. Nobody’s called me that since Mama died.” Evie rubbed her temples. Her head was beginning to throb. Probably another migraine; she’d had them a lot lately. “The next thing I know, I’m sitting here. Oh, Addy, I don’t understand any of this. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Relax, Eves, Ansgar must have brought you home. I take back everything I said about him. Okay, maybe not everything, but the hemorrhoid part anyway.”
“But why would he do that? He doesn’t know me. And how did he get me home? I don’t remember being in a car.”
Addy snorted. “Who said anything about a car? We’re talking about the Dalvahni here. Ten to one, Ansgar teleported you here.”
“Teleported me?” Evie blinked in surprise. “Oh, my goodness.”
“Dalvahni woo woo, chicka. Demon hunters are loaded with it.” Her lips curved in a cat-in-the-cream-pot smile. “In more ways than one.”
Evie felt a pang of envy. The sexual attraction between Addy and Brand was so smoking hot you’d have to be dead not to notice. You could almost see the pheromones in the air when those two were together, which was most of the time. Brand Dalvahni loved him some Addy Corwin; that was for sure.
“I wouldn’t know,” Evie said. “Well . . . be sure and thank him for me. It was nice of him to get me out of there.” She shivered. “It was horrible, Addy. Just horrible.”
“Thank him yourself. Hannah’s a small town, you know. I got a feeling you’ll be seeing more of him.”
Addy got to her feet.
Evie grabbed her arm. “Where are you going? Don’t leave me! I need you.”
“Relax,” Addy said. “You’re going with me. We’ll go get your car and bring it back here. You can call in sick. No one will ever know you were there.”
“I’ve already called nine-one-one. The police are on their way.”
“Oh, man.” Addy sank back onto the step. “You are such a rule-follower, Evie Douglass.”
“I know.” Evie sighed. “But you love me anyway, right?”
“Shit, I reckon,” Addy said.
“Addy.” Evie looked around. “Your mama hears you cussing and there’ll be h-e-l-l to pay.”
Addy’s mama, Bitsy Corwin, was a force to be reckoned with. Evie loved her to pieces, but the woman scared the bejesus out of her.
“You don’t have to spell it, Eves. The Bitser’s not here. She can’t hear me.”
“Huh. That woman has ears like an elephant when it comes to your potty mouth.”
“Don’t I know it?” Addy was silent. After a moment, she said, “You realize that voice inside your head wasn’t human.”
A chill ran down Evie’s spine. “Yeah, I thought about that.”
“And that there’s probably a demon involved? Maybe even that a demon killed Meredith?”
“Thought about that, too.”
It wouldn’t be the first time a demon caused trouble in Hannah. There was something very strange about their little town.
“The demon might come after you next. You’d better stay with me for a while until it’s safe.”
Evie snorted. “Me underfoot all the time? Won’t Brand love that?”
“Brand will have to deal. You’re my best friend.”
“Thanks,” she said, “but I’ll stay here. The fairies will warn me.”
Addy gave her a curious, almost hopeful look. “I thought you said you couldn’t see them anymore?”
A wave of grief washed over Evie. She’d been able to see fairies as long as she could remember, although she’d only recently shared her gift with Addy. Seeing fairies wasn’t something you went around talking about, not even to your best friend. Not if you didn’t want people to think you were a loon.
She inherited her ability from her mother. It was a special bond they shared, a connection she treasured, especially since her mother’s death. And then, inexplicably, one day not long ago, she couldn’t see fairies anymore.
She swallowed the ball of sadness in her throat. “I can’t see or hear them, but they rattle the wind chimes to let me know they’re there. They’ll warn me if something bad comes, and they’ll protect me.”
Addy grunted, but she sounded unconvinced. “Fairies and demons and demon slayers, oh my! Who would’ve thunk boring, little Hannah, Alabama, would turn out to be the supernatural Vegas truck stop of the universe.”
“Hannah’s never been boring, Addy. You just couldn’t see it.”
“Huh. Well, I see it now.” Addy straightened as two cars pulled up to the curb. “Here come Chief Davis and the sheriff. What are you going to tell them?”
“The truth. What else?”
Addy groaned. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
Ansgar stood beneath a sprawling oak near Evangeline’s front porch, listening as she conversed with her friend Addy. Evie could not see him. As a Dalvahni demon hunter, he could make himself invisible. But he could see her.
And hear her.
By the gods, he’d missed her. He stood in the green shadows and drank in the sultry sound of her voice. Each soft, drawling utterance from her lips played upon his senses until he thought he would go mad with need.
He’d met her but a few months past, when he’d come to Earth with his brother Brand in pursuit of a group of rogue demons. It had seemed an ordinary mission, like countless others through the centuries. He and Brand would execute their task with brutal efficiency, round up the demons, and remove all trace of their presence here. Afterward, they would return to the Hall of Warriors to await their next assignment.
Such was the way of the Dalvahni warrior.
Things had quickly spiraled out of control when Brand fell under Addy Corwin’s spell. ’Twas a thing unheard of in the history of the Dalvahni, Brand’s unseemly affection for the Corwin woman.
Ansgar had been baffled by his brother’s odd behavior. True, he had been charmed by Addy’s friend, Evangeline Douglass. But he was no weakling like his brother, who’d succumbed to this peculiar affliction called “love.” Bah.
He and Brand had completed their mission, capturing the djegrali after a battle in the town square. During the fray, Evangeline had been taken by a demon. Ansgar could see her still, white-faced with terror, beseeching him to slay her, less terrified of death than of demonic possession. And with good reason. A human possessed had no will, no choice. They were the demon’s plaything, under the creature’s control until their body was used up and the demon discarded them for fresher meat.
Hands shaking, Ansgar had nocked an arrow in his bow and shot Evangeline through the heart. The demon had abandoned her dying body as such creatures were wont to do—a demon trapped in death with a human dies also.
Ansgar had dispatched the demon with another arrow and, taking Evangeline in his arms, he’d saved her from death, infusing her with his essence. She’d awakened, fully healed and no longer human.
And with no memory of him.
’Twas for the best, he’d told himself. He left, with no intention of returning.
To his astonishment, the months away from her—what should have been a mere heartbeat of time in the life span of the ageless Dalvahni—had been an endless agony. He’d fought his feelings for her, losing himself in the hunt and the emptying embrace of a thrall, sexual creatures designed to sate a Dalvahni warrior’s physical needs and empty them of battle rage and lust. Both species found the relationship to their advantage. The Dalvahni, drained of unnecessary feelings, were unhampered in battle, and the thralls were strengthened and sustained by Dalvahni emotion.
But love? The Dalvahni did not love.
The Dalvahni were immortal warriors created for a singular purpose. To hunt the djegrali, demons that had slipped the confines of their own dimension, and return them to their proper place or kill them if need be. Left unchecked, the djegrali invariably wreaked havoc upon mortals.
But his struggle had been in vain. Nothing could erase his memories of Evangeline. She was always there in the back of his mind, beckoning; light in an eternity of darkness, warmth and laughter and hope after eons of bleakness and grim, unrelenting duty. She was fever and longing and need. The scent, feel, and taste of her a craving that could not be extinguished by distance, time, or the emotion-sucking clasp of a succubus sex slave.
He abhorred his hunger for her, but at long last he accepted it. He was a fool to think he could forget. Acknowledging his defeat, he’d come back, knowing she would not remember him or their brief, sweet time together. He’d told himself it was enough to be near her, to stand over her as she slept, listening to the steady sound of her breathing, each soft exhalation of air from her lungs music to his lonely soul. He appointed himself her unseen guardian as she went about her daily tasks, following at her heels like a lovesick boy.
Gods, he was pathetic. But he could not resist her. He had not the strength or the will to try.
But neither could he be with her. She was his exquisite torture, his bane, and his every desire. But she was beyond his reach. He had put her there.
She reached up and nervously tugged at a lock of her long hair, an unconscious gesture he knew well. He remembered everything about her, the arch of her slender feet, the sweet curve of her rounded bottom, the satiny feel of her skin beneath his fingers and lips.
She, on the other hand, remembered nothing of him, and it was better so. He had hurt her, brought her nigh unto death with an arrow fired from his own bow, and for that he could not forgive himself. Nor was that the least of his transgressions. He had changed her. She was Dalvahni now, although she did not know it. And because of him, because of the change he had wrought in her, Evangeline could no longer see her beloved fairies. This, too, he’d taken from her. She would hate him for it if she knew, and that he could not bear.
No, it was better this way, although keeping his distance from her was the hardest thing he had ever done. He was fated, it seemed, to spend forever longing for a woman he could not have. There was a certain irony in that.
A dark blue vehicle with the word SHERIFF inscribed in silver letters on the door eased to a stop in front of Evie’s house. Close behind it was a gray automobile with HANNAH POLICE written on the side. A distinguished-looking man with silver hair at his temples got out of the gray car. Carl E. Davis, the Chief of Police in Hannah. Ansgar remembered him from his previous visit here. Davis was courting Addy Corwin’s widowed mother, Bitsy. Ansgar felt sorry for the man. All of the females in that family were unmanageable, to put it mildly. And his brother, Brand, had willingly bound himself to one of them. Madness. Ansgar shook his head at the thought. Addy Corwin was the most annoying creature he’d ever met.
But that was Brand’s affair and not his, thank the gods.
A tall, broad-shouldered man Ansgar did not recognize climbed out of the other car. The metal badge on the front of his light brown shirt glittered in the sunshine. He was much younger than Chief Davis and moved with a predatory grace that marked him as a hunter. Ansgar frowned. This man might be clad in modern raiment, but he was a warrior nonetheless. . . and dangerous. There was something different about him, although Ansgar could not say what. His protective instincts aroused, Ansgar opened his senses. He did not detect the taint of the djegrali on the human. Still, something about the stranger made him wary, and he moved closer to the porch and Evie.
To Ansgar’s surprise, the man in the brown shirt turned and scanned the area as if sensing his presence. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, but the expression on his lean face was watchful. His gaze lingered on the spot where Ansgar stood for a moment and then moved on.
Ansgar’s warrior instincts shrieked in warning. The Dalvahni had many gifts at their disposal, including invisibility, unsurpassed tracking skills, and stealth. And, yet, this man seemed to detect something amiss. A formidable opponent, indeed, Ansgar thought grimly, and one to be watched.
Evie got to her feet as the two men approached her. Her hazel eyes were wide, her cheeks and lips pale. She was frightened. Something twisted inside Ansgar. The need to comfort her was a raw, physical ache. It was all he could do not to rush to her side.
She stood on the steps, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her lush body was disguised by a shapeless, cotton dress; her glorious red hair was partially hidden beneath a matching kerchief. She was all woman. Full, high breasts, a waist so tiny a man could span it with his hands, and curving, generous hips. But she could not see her own beauty.
To him, she was luscious, the essence of feminine beauty, but the cruel taunts of others and the repressive demands of her now dead father had convinced her otherwise. In their once-before, the precious days they’d spent together before he left, he’d coaxed her out of her shell. She had emerged a fragile, breathtaking creature, her burgeoning confidence as thin and brittle as ice in a spring thaw. But that brief rebirth was forgotten, wiped out by a silver arrow from his quiver and her brush with the djegrali and death.
“Chief Davis.” Ansgar heard a touch of relief in Evie’s voice at the sight of a familiar face. “I didn’t expect to see you.” Next, she met the tall stranger at the foot of the steps and held out her hand. “I’m Evie Douglass. I found Meredith this morning when I went in to work and called nine-one-one. Are you a deputy?”
“This is Sheriff Whitsun, Evie,” Chief Davis said.
Evie blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I expected someone older.”
“And uglier.” The chief nudged the younger man with his elbow. “Dev gets that a lot. Ain’t that right, pretty boy?”
Ansgar watched the human called Whitsun. In his experience, human males often interacted with one another through mockery, whether good natured or derogatory. Whitsun, however, did not react to the chief’s jibe. His expression remained as impassive as any Dalvahni warrior. Most unusual and alarming.
The sheriff turned his attention to Addy. “And you are?”
Addy rose to her feet. “Addy Corwin.”
A rectangular box on the sheriff ’s belt squawked. “ ’Scuse me,” he said. He pushed a button and spoke into the device. “Go ahead.”
A crackling voice emerged from the contraption. “We got a homicide at Peterson’s Lumber Mill, Dev. Adult white female. Multiple stab wounds.”
“Lock it down and don’t touch anything. I’m on my way.” The sheriff clipped the device back onto his belt and turned to Evie. “I have to go to the scene. Three of my deputies are out with the stomach flu and we’re short staffed. Would you mind coming to my office to make your statement?”
“No, of course not,” Evie said.
“Thank you. That would be a big help. I’ll have one of my men drive you to the office.”
Addy bristled. “Why can’t she make her statement at the police station? She knows the chief and will feel more comfortable talking to him.”
“The mill’s outside of town, Addy,” the chief said. “This is county business.”
Addy crossed her arms and looked stubborn. “Then I’m going with her.”
“You’re welcome to wait for Miss Douglass in the reception area while she makes her statement,” the sheriff said. “I’ll warn you, though. Sometimes these things take a while.”
“The wheels of justice grind slowly, is that it?” Addy said in a belligerent tone.
Evie laid her hand on Addy’s arm. “Addy, please, the sheriff’s just trying to do his job.” She gave Whitsun a wan smile that pierced Ansgar’s heart. “We’ve been friends since elementary school, and she’s a little overprotective.”
“That’s quite all right, ma’am. I understand.” The sheriff looked at the chief. “Carl, would you mind waiting here with Miss Douglass until my deputy gets here?”
“Be glad to,” the chief said. “Anything we can do to help, you let me know.”
“I’ll do that.”
With a curt nod, Sheriff Whitsun left.
The chief took Evie by the elbow and guided her up the steps. “You look a little puny, Evie. Why don’t we sit on the porch and maybe Addy can get us a little something to drink?”
“I am feeling a little dizzy.” Evie gave Addy a pleading look. “There’s sweet tea in the fridge, Addy. Would you mind?”
“Course not, although I don’t think I should leave you alone with the Po-Po.” Addy paused at the front door and scowled at the chief. “Don’t you try any of that sneaky cop stuff while I’m gone, you hear? Evie, you holler if he does and I’ll come running.”
“Oh, for the love of—” The chief gave Addy an exasperated look. “Do you think I’d do that to Evie? I’ve known you two girls all your lives. For Christ’s sake, Addy, I date your mother.”
“Huh,” Addy said with a sniff. “You’re the Man now, Chief, and everybody knows you can’t trust the Man.” She started inside and took a step back. “And you’d better not let Bitsy hear you calling Our Lord and Savior out his name, or your ass will be grass and Mama will mow it.”
Addy was standing at the counter in the kitchen when Ansgar materialized at her elbow.
“There is something peculiar about the human called Whitsun,” he said without preamble. “I do not trust him.”
Addy shrieked and almost dropped the pitcher she was holding. “Blondy, don’t sneak up on me like that. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Irritation spiked along his nerves. “As I have told you many times, my name is Ansgar, not Blondy. As for your question, I assume it was rhetorical. You are Dalvahni now. We do not suffer heart attacks or other human maladies.”
Addy rolled her eyes. “Same old Blondy. About as much fun as a kidney stone. God, I’m soooo glad you’re back. Not.”
“My cup of joy overfloweth at seeing you as well. Tell me about this Whitsun. Who is he?”
Addy shrugged and set the pitcher on the counter. “I don’t know much about him, except he’s not from Hannah. Grew up somewhere out in the county. But he seems like an all right guy to me.”
“He is not ‘all right,’ ” Ansgar said. “I do not like him.”
Addy gave him a shrewd glance. “You don’t like anything with a pecker that gets around Evie. Why don’t you stop moping around and introduce yourself? Or should I say reintroduce? We both know she’s the reason you’re here.”
“A Dalvahni warrior does not mope.”
“Huh. Could have fooled me. You’ve been following Evie around like a dog that’s lost its bone.”
Irksome woman. Her description of him mirrored his own gloomy thoughts, which made her remark sting all the more.
“I came back to Hannah because I was assigned to this realm,” he said through his teeth. “The presence and number of djegrali in this place are most peculiar. Conall thought reinforcements necessary.”
“Oh, yeah?” Addy raised her brows. “And I suppose you just happened to be out at Peterson’s this morning when Evie got into trouble?”
“That is correct.”
“Horse hockey.” Addy placed the drink glasses on a wooden tray. “You’ve been shadowing Evie for weeks. Not eating. Not sleeping. Standing by her bed at night like a creeper.”
“Who told you this?”
Addy gave him a sweet smile. “The fairies told Mr. Fluffy Fauntleroy, who told Dooley, who told me.”
Mr. Fluffy Fauntleroy was the ridiculous moniker Addy gave the fairy cat that had inexplicably attached itself to her. Dooley was her dog, her big, yellow talking dog. Ansgar made a mental note to have a word with both creatures.
“Don’t tell Evie about the fairies,” Addy said with a frown. “It would make her feel bad.”
“I would never do anything to hurt Evie.”
“Hate to break it to you, Blondy, but you already have. First you shot her in the chest. With. An. Arrow. Gotta tell you, I was majorly pissed about that one. But I calmed down a little once I realized you had to do it to save her from the demon. And you did heal her, I’ll give you that much. But then you left. Pfft. Just when I was starting to think you liked her.”
Liked her? Liked her? Was the woman mad? He adored Evangeline. Not that he would admit it to Addy. His feelings for Evangeline were no one else’s affair.
“I did not hurt her by leaving. She does not remember me.”
“Oh, yeah? Then how come she’s been walking around like something dead since you skedaddled out of here?”
Skedaddle. It took Ansgar a moment to translate the strange term. Skedaddle: to run away, as if in fright.
He stiffened in affront. “She is melancholy because she lost the sight. It is a great loss, but she will adjust, in time.”
“Sure, she misses not being able to see the little guys.” To Ansgar’s surprise, angry tears filled Addy’s eyes. “But that’s not why she’s so sad. You broke her heart, you big jerk. I know, because I felt the same way when Brand left me. Only, it’s worse for Evie ’cause she doesn’t know her heart is broken. There’s a big
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Demon Hunting in the Deep South
Lexi George
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