Demon Hunting In the Deep South (31 page)

“I am not familiar with this term.”

“That’s ’cause I made it up,” Evie said. “I can’t say bad words with the light on.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just can’t.”

“How odd. To answer your question, I did not have sex with Ansgar.”

“Good.”

“Ansgar favors a thrall by the name of Kalia.”

“Not good.” Evie clenched her fists, the unfamiliar rage building inside her again at the thought of Ansgar with another female.

“Why are you threatened by Kalia? He loves you.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s eat up with it. That’s why he slept with another woman.”

“Kalia is not a woman. She is thrall. It is not the same. It was a release, nothing more, an attempt by Ansgar to forget you. It did not work. You heard him. Kalia could not eradicate his memories or his feelings for you.” Lenora clasped her hands to her substantial, mostly naked bosom. “The things he said to you tonight, his obvious passion for you . . . It reminded me of a scene from
Loins of Lust
. Do you know it?”

“The soap? I’ve never watched it.”

“It is beautiful.” Lenora splayed her fingers across her flat stomach. “Watching
Loins of Lust
makes me feel funny inside.”

Good heavens, Shep’s emotion-sucking succubus girlfriend was a romantic. This was taking weird to a whole new level.

“What about Shep?” Evie said. “Does he make you feel funny inside?”

Lenora dropped her hands. “I do not wish to speak of Shepton. He is a biscuit eater, too. I am wroth with him.”

“You’re wroth with Shep and I’m wroth with Ansgar. You wanna get drunk?”

“Kirk Vandergalt got drunk on
Loins of Lust
and fell off a cruise ship. He was never heard from again. They held a lovely ceremony in his memory. It made my eyes leak.”

“Probably his contract was up and he wanted off the show.”

“Perhaps you are right. His wife Crystal did not mourn him overlong. She married Blane Tarkington four shows later.”

“I wouldn’t judge Crystal too harshly. Time flows differently on soap operas.”

Tilting her head, the thrall seemed to consider this. “I had not thought of that. You are wise. Why do you wish to get drunk?”

“My father drank too much, so I’ve never been much of a drinker. But, the way I feel tonight, I figure I’ve got two choices. I either get drunk or I make like Carrie and burn the whole town. Know what I mean?”

“I do not know what you mean. I do not know this Carrie, and I never had a father.” The thrall paused. “Or a friend. Will you be my friend, Evie Douglass?”

“Don’t rush me. I’m still working on like.”

Chapter Thirty-one

S
he was gone. Ansgar threw back his head with a frustrated howl, uncaring that the rain and wind beat against him. The tempest in the ballroom was nothing compared to the storm of regret in his heart. He should have told her sooner, confessed all. But things had happened too quickly, the murder, the attack by the djegrali, her imprisonment, the sweet delirium of being with her again.

The time had never seemed right. She had so many other worries, so much to cope with. He had been reluctant to burden her with the truth.

Coward,
he chided himself.
Admit it. You were being selfish. These past few days with her have been heaven. You did not tell her because you were afraid, you could not risk losing her.

You left me . . . left me . . . left me.

Her words of rebuke rang in his ears. She was gone. He had to find her, to try to explain, to make her understand. Without warning, the storm blew out the doors, leaving the ballroom a sodden, dripping mess. Someone called his name. Wiping the rain from his eyes, he turned.

Brand helped Addy across the slippery dance floor. They were soaked to the skin and Addy was crying.

“Trifle with thy wench and she shall strike thine codpiece,” Brand said. “I warned you how it would be, did I not?”

Ansgar gritted his teeth at the note of amusement in Brand’s voice. “Aye, you did, brother.”

“Oh, Ansgar, what are we going to do?” Addy sobbed. “Did you see her face? She looked so hurt, so lost. I feel so awful.”

In spite of his annoyance with Brand, something twisted inside Ansgar. For all their differences, he knew that Addy loved Evie. It disturbed him to see this feisty, irrepressible woman looking so sad and vulnerable. By the sword, he was becoming maudlin and weepy himself. This would not do.

“You must be distressed,” he said, adopting the supercilious tone he knew irritated her. “You remembered my name.”

She glared at him. “Well, of course I’m upset. She’s my best friend. We’ve never had a fight before.”

“My love, can you not see he goads you apurpose to distract you from your grief?” Brand said. He bowed to Ansgar. “I, too, have grown quite fond of Evie. I am at your service, brother, should you require assistance in the hunt, though I doubt you have need of it. Your tracking skills are without equal.”

“I thank you for the offer,” Ansgar said, “but ’tis my belief you can better serve our cause here.” People were starting to drift back into the ballroom, exclaiming in shock and disbelief at the destruction. “Evangeline has violated the Directive Against Conspicuousness. Can I count on you to set things aright?”

Addy straightened her dripping garment. “What’s the big deal? The sprinkler system malfunctioned.”

Ansgar gave her a slow grin. “Yes, that will serve. That was quick thinking on your part.”

She flushed. “Stop being nice to me and find our girl.”

Brand clapped Ansgar on the shoulder and squeezed. “Yes, go after Evie. We will attend to matters here.”

With a nod, Ansgar turned to go.

“Wait up, I’m coming with you.” Shep strode into the ballroom, his jaw clenched. He held a metal club in one hand. “Lenora’s gone, and I’ve got a notion she’s with Evie.”

“What in the world makes you say that?” Addy asked. “Evie barely knows Lenora.”

Shep jerked his thumb at the door behind him. “
He
told me—that’s how. He said he saw Lenora follow Evie.”

“Who are you talking about, Shep? You’re not making sense.” Addy’s eyes widened as a giant white stag trotted into the ballroom on shining hooves. “Holy cow, it’s Sid. He’s back!”

The stag shimmered and took the shape of a human male with antlers, splendid in form and radiating power.

Addy’s face turned red. “
A-a-a-nd
he’s not wearing any clothes. Dude, put a sock on Big Jim and the twins before they catch cold.”

Sildhjort shimmered, this time assuming the form of a human in modern raiment without the antlers.

“Thank God,” Addy muttered.

“Sildhjort,” Brand said, acknowledging the god. “What brings you to Hannah?”

Sildhjort shrugged. “I like it here, and I find the girl intriguing.”

“The girl?” Ansgar felt the sharp stab of jealousy. “You mean Evangeline?”

“Aye,” Sildhjort said. “She is unusual, a tantalizing combination of the shy, winsome beauty of a dryad and the unfocused power of an elemental.” He glanced around at the ruined ballroom. “Though she has little control of her abilities, as is most evident.” He looked at Ansgar with eyes that were bottomless wells of darkness. “You must find her before the djegrali do. They will be drawn to her, and she is but a fledgling, untrained and ill-equipped to defend herself against them.”

Fear swept through Ansgar like a wildfire through dry brush at the thought of Evangeline at the mercy of the djegrali.

No. Think on that and he would go mad. The hunt, he would concentrate on the hunt instead.

He would find her. She would be safe. Anything else was unacceptable.

“I will find her,” Ansgar promised. “I shall seek her at home first.”

“I wish you good hunting,” Sildhjort said. Resuming the shape of a stag, he trotted out the door.

“Let us know something,” Addy said. She sounded anxious. “I’ve already tried calling her house, but my cell phone isn’t working. Probably water damage.”

Ansgar nodded.

“Hold up,” Shep said as Ansgar started to dematerialize. “I’m coming with you.”

Ansgar grabbed Shep by the wrist and made the leap through space. They materialized in the back bedroom of Evie’s house. The room was dark but for the weak light of a lamp by the bed.

Shep looked around, his expression alert. “I don’t think anybody’s here.”

Ansgar inhaled. He caught a faint whiff of Damascus rose, sweet and mysterious, brightened by a hint of citrus, the perfume Evangeline had dabbed upon her pulse points earlier that evening. Overlaying that, like a rotting carcass in a fragrant garden, was the rancid odor of the djegrali.

“They have gone,” he told Shep. “We must hurry. The demons have their scent.”

Four hours later, Evie was still sober, and not from lack of trying. She’d consumed enough alcohol to float a jon boat and nothing, nada, not so much as a buzz. Lenora, on the other hand, was pounded. The bars they’d visited seethed with a variety of feelings: anger, envy, hate, lust, loneliness, sadness, depression, to name a few. The thrall had glutted herself on the emotion-rich atmosphere, leaving the patrons in mellow, empty-eyed bliss.

In spite of the glut fest, however, Lenora seemed grumpy and dissatisfied. She kept muttering Shep’s name and “snodcoddling” and “biscuit eater” in the same breath.

“I don’t understand it,” Evie said as they left the third bar. “I’ve never had more than a glass of wine in my life. I should be knee walking, but I don’t feel a thing.”

The Coca-Cola thermometer outside the entrance to the bar registered 53 degrees, but Evie didn’t mind the chill. In fact, she hardly noticed it. She’d shed the ball gown in favor of a pair of form-fitting jeans, a sexy vee-neck top, and a pair of slinky sandals, selecting her outfit from the overflowing closet in the guest room. Her days of being invisible were over. Old habits were hard to break, but being falsely accused of murder, arrested, talked about by the entire town, attacked by a demon, and deceived by everyone she loved had been a big wake-up call.

The doormat was dead. The woman who’d taken her place was still something of an unknown quantity, but Evie had a feeling she was going to like her.

For one thing, she was done hating her body. No more hiding her figure under baggy dresses and oversized slacks. She was a curvy gal with generous breasts and a caboose. She would never be a size two. So be it. After a lifetime of feeling ugly and uneasy in her own skin, she was at peace with herself. Ansgar had convinced her that she was beautiful and desirable. It was a priceless gift.

A spasm of pain wrenched her heart.
Ansgar
.

No, she would not go there. He left her.

Who was she kidding? He was
all
she thought about. She felt hurt and foolish and disappointed, and she was madder at him than she’d ever been at anybody in her life, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

She couldn’t even drink him out of her mind,
because she couldn’t get drunk!

It was so unfair.

“Why can’t I get drunk?” Evie complained. “I don’t get it.”

“The Dal are impervious to alcohol and drugs.” Lenora hiccupped and staggered across the gravel parking lot. “You are Dalvahni now. I do not think you can get drunk.”

“What?”
Evie grabbed the reeling thrall by the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me this before I spent a hundred and twenty dollars on booze?”

Lenora squinted at her through bleary blue eyes. “You said you wanted to get drunk. I wanted your companionship. Besides, we did not know for certain that you cannot get drunk, until now. It was for your own good, a sort of experiment, if you will.”

“I
hate
when people tell me they’re doing something for my own good. In my experience, that means better for
them
.”

“Are we going to another pub?” Lenora asked.

“What’s the point if I can’t get drunk?” Evie kicked a rock with the side of her shoe. It flew across the parking lot and knocked a chunk out of a tree.
Oops, note to self: new abilities include super strength.
“I’m miserable, and I can’t quit thinking about Ansgar.” She clenched her fists at her side. “But, I’m mad at him and I don’t want to go home.”

“I do not want to go home yet, either,” Lenora said. Her expression grew distant. “There is another place. It is on the river. Shepton and I went past it once in his boat. When I asked him about it, he said he had never been there, that it is a private club. I cannot recall the name of it, but there was something about it that called to me.”

“You don’t mean Beck’s Bar?” Evie shook her head. “That place has a bad reputation. Even the cops stay away from it.”

“Yes,” Lenora said. “That is the name! I want to go there.”

The old Evie would never go to Beck’s. The old Evie was dead. The new Evie was still edgy, antsy, and riled up. And sober.

“If you insist, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Lenora waved a hand in dismissal. “What can happen? I am thrall and you are Dalvahni. We can take care of ourselves.”

“Okay, but you’re driving. You know where it is.”

Lenora tried to straighten and almost fell over. “As you like.”

She grabbed Evie by the hand, and the air shimmered around them. Evie fell through a long tunnel. When she came out the other side, she and Lenora stood on the riverbank. It was dark and quiet except for the slosh of the water and the whisper of the night wind.

“There,” Lenora said, pointing.

On the other side of the river, a low, ramshackle building crouched in the mossy arms of a stand of old trees. Moonlight washed the tin roof and weathered wooden walls in shades of pewter, giving the structure an otherworldly glow. A neon sign bled the words B
ECK’S
B
AR
into the dark. Lanterns shone on the covered porch, and boats bobbed in the water at the end of the pier. The sound of music and voices drifted out the open doors and across the river.

“You missed,” Evie said. “The bar’s over there.”

“This form of travel is draining, and I am weary,” Lenora said. “And I would remind you I saw the place but once with Shepton.”