Demon Hunting In the Deep South (34 page)

“I have not! I have not been with anyone else since we met!” Lenora glared at him and then at Evie. “Tell him, Evie.”

“She hasn’t been with anybody tonight,” Evie said. “All she did was dance on the bar.”

And send folks into a sexual frenzy, but that was more like a hobby.

Shep gave Lenora a slow smile. “I know you haven’t been with anyone else. Even though you were mad and hurting and wanted to hurt me back for being a prize idiot. Know how I know?” Lenora shook her head at him, her expression wary. “Because you love me.” He took another step toward the bar. “Say it, Nora. Tell me you love me.”

Lenora’s magnificent bosom rose and fell in rapid succession, straining the so-called bodice of the string dress. “No, I will not! I am frightened.”

“I’m scared too, baby,” Shep said. “But, I’m standing here with my heart in my hand telling you I love you. Give a guy a break, won’t you? I’m dying here. I need to hear the words.”

“But what about
her
? What about your mother, your sister? They hate me.”

“They can get over it,” Shep said. “I love you, and so do William and Lily. The question is, do you love me?”

“Yes, damn you, I love you!” Lenora’s lush mouth trembled. “There, are you happy?”

Shep grinned, and the effect was dazzling. “Ecstatic. Even if I could live without you, I sure as hell don’t want to.” Tossing the golf club aside, he looked up at Lenora with his heart in his eyes. “Lenora Thralvani, will you marry me? Please.”

Chapter Thirty-four

E
vie held her breath for Shep. He looked so full of hope, so vulnerable. He deserved some happiness, and he was obviously crazy mad in love with Lenora. But what if she didn’t feel the same way? Sure, she
said
she loved him, but what was love to a thrall? Oh, dear, Evie hoped Lenora wasn’t about to break Shep’s heart.

She needn’t have worried. Lenora leaped off the bar and into his arms.

“Yes, Shepton, oh, yes!” she squealed, raining kisses on his face. “I will marry you and most gladly.”

“Thank God,” Shep said, kissing her.

Fireworks whizzed through the air, and flowers and blooming vines of every description sprang from the floor at Shep’s and Lenora’s feet. The air grew heavy with the scent of roses, jasmine, hyacinth, gardenia, and lilac. Butterflies and tiny birds with wings like delicate multicolored crystal flitted among the blossoms of golden light starring the air. An unseen chorus sang something in a strange language in voices that were so pure and clear they brought tears of joy to Evie’s eyes.

The thrall was happy, really, really happy; Beck, not so much. She stopped arguing with the dark-haired warrior to glare at the two lovebirds.

“Hey, you two get a room,” she said. “And take the flowers and the rest of this mushy junk with you. This is a bar, not a freaking Disney movie.”

Shep lifted his head and smiled down at Lenora. “An excellent suggestion.”

Blip!
They disappeared, taking the flora, fauna, and Celtic choir with them, leaving the bar once more a mess. Smashed tables and chairs littered the establishment, and broken glass covered the floor from busted beer bottles. Bits of dead wraith drifted across the room like wisps of black crepe paper, lifted by the night wind blowing through the gaping doors. Evie glanced down at the glass bar she sat on. The exterior appeared undamaged, but the liquid lights inside were bunched at one end, so something wasn’t working properly. The goon with the burned arm sat on the floor with his back to the wall, his legs wide open and a vacant look on his broad face. Something had sure poleaxed him but good; maybe the rapid fluctuation in Lenora’s emotions or the magic that shimmered in the air from all the supernatural activity.

The few remaining customers drifted out of the bar, headed home, Evie presumed. It was late and the show was over. Ansgar stood next to the pool of dark liquid—all that remained of the she demon—deep in conversation with the dark-haired guy. As she watched, the puddle of demon ooze dried up and blew away. Beck made a face and said something to them. Or tried to—but they were doing the boys’ club thing and ignoring her.

As if sensing her regard, Ansgar turned his head and looked at her. His face was stiff and carefully blank, but his eyes shone like beaten silver. He was angry with her.

Evie lifted her chin. So what? He wasn’t the only one in a bad mood. She’d been scared half out of her wits tonight for him and for herself. She was still mad at him and woozy on chocolate, and she felt irritable, tense, and jumpy in her own skin.

Beck raised her voice. “But I keep trying to tell you there’s another way to do it! You didn’t
have
to kill that woman.”

“She seems most adamant,” Ansgar said in his cool, unruffled way. “Perhaps we should listen to her, Conall.”

Evie felt a stab of alarm. Conall? The dark-haired warrior was
Conall,
the leader of the Dalvahni? Why was he here? What if Conall ordered Ansgar to leave? Sent him on a mission and she never saw him again? She was angry at Ansgar, but she didn’t want him to go away. Again, she thought darkly.

How was she supposed to make him sorry for what he did if he
left
?

“ ’Twas not a woman, ’twas a demon.” Conall’s voice was harsh, and something like fury flashed in his black eyes. “If not for my intercession the beast would have slain you, little fool. Have you no care for your safety?”

Beck straightened her shoulders. “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are, but I can take care of myself.” She threw up her hands in disgust. “Oh, what’s the use? You’re not listening, so I’ll
show
you.”

“Stay back, woman. The fiend is dangerous,” Conall commanded as Beck strode over to the goony on the floor, the bottle still grasped in one hand.

Conall crossed the room in a blur of motion, but Beck was faster. She stabbed the goon in the shoulder with the silver pour spout. The goon’s eyes bulged and his hulking body arched. The bottle in Beck’s hand darkened and filled with oily smoke. The goony shifted and shrank.

Beck stuck her thumb over the end of the pour spout to keep the demon from escaping. “And that,” she said, flashing Conall a cocky grin, “is the proper way to extract a demon.”

“By the sword,” Ansgar said, staring in astonishment at the rather ordinary looking man sitting on the floor in the goony’s place. “She sucked the djegrali out of the human. Astonishing.”

“Perhaps he remembers something,” Conall said. “Perhaps he can tell us something of the djegrali and their plans.”

“Where am I?” The man looked around in bewilderment. His plaid shorts were torn and dirty. “Why does my arm hurt?” He looked down at the blood darkening his shirt. “My shoulder’s bleeding. What’s going on?”

“You’re in a bar in Hannah,” Beck said. “Do you remember how you got here?”

“Hannah? What the hell am I doing in Hannah?” Bermuda Shorts looked puzzled. “The last thing I remember was going into the Pink Pony Pub for a beer. My wife and I are staying at the beach with the kids.” He scowled. “And then
She
shows up. M’wife’s sister. Can’t stand that woman. Got a voice like a smoke alarm and never shuts up. That’s why I went to get a beer. Had to get away.”

“When was that?” Beck asked.

“Fourth of July weekend,” he said. “The hottest damn time of the year in Gulf Shores, but that’s when Belinda always wants to go. I hate the beach. Hate the heat and the sand and the jellyfish and the damn tourists. I’m telling you, if I had a house at the beach and a home in hell, I’d go home.”

“I think that answers your question,” Beck said to Conall. “He doesn’t remember anything. I’m not surprised. None of them ev—”

“What time is it?” the man demanded, interrupting her. “I gotta get back to the condo.”

Beck glanced at her watch. “It’s fifteen minutes until three—”

His eyes bulged. “In the morning? Shit, my wife’s gonna—”

“—and it’s October thirty-first. Halloween morning, to be exact,” Beck finished. “You’re late, real late. On the plus side, you’re not at the beach.” Ignoring the flustered, sputtering man, she waved at Toby. “Tobias, why don’t you take Rip van Winkle into the office and let him telephone his wife?”

“Sure thing,” Toby said.

Staring at Beck in befuddlement, the man allowed Toby to help him to his feet. “The name’s Jack,” he mumbled.

“Well, Jack, have the little woman take you to the hospital and have that arm and shoulder checked out,” Beck said. “And while you’re at it, make sure the doc checks you for STDs. No telling where you and your johnson have been since July. You don’t want to give the wife a nasty present.”

Jack blanched. “Oh, man, Belinda’s gonna kill me.”

Toby led Jack away.

“And Jack, don’t drink,” Beck called after them. “It’s bad for you.”

“ ’Tis peculiar advice, coming from the owner of a tavern,” Conall said. His deep voice was colorless.

“Yeah, well you don’t know anything about me.” Walking over to the bar, Beck lifted a loose tile at one end, stuck the end of the spout in the opening, and shook the bottle. Black smoke poured out of the bottle. The wraith turned a sullen, angry red and joined the cluster of lights huddled at one end of the hollow shell. “There,” Beck said, slapping the tile back into place with a look of satisfaction. “That’s one demon won’t be causing any more trouble.”

Demons, the pretty little colored lights inside the bar were demons. She was sitting on top of a swarm of them. Evie scampered down off the bar and slammed into Ansgar’s shield spell.

Disengaging the spell, Ansgar drew her away from the bar. “Is it wise to keep them thus?” he asked, eyeing the floating demons with an uneasy expression. “Do you not fear they will escape?”

“The glass is too thick,” Beck said. “They can’t pass through it, for some reason. I got a bunch more in the store room in mason jars.”

“You mean, you’ve been canning demons like . . . like
tomatoes
?” Evie stared at Beck in astonishment. “Holy cow! Can all demonoids do the same thing? Extract demons, I mean.”

Beck shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. We have different talents and varying degrees of ability.” She glanced at Conall and stiffened. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?” Conall’s mouth twisted in a sneer.

“Like I’m something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe.”

“You are demon spawn, I am a demon hunter,” Conall said. “What else is there to say?”

“I read you loud and clear, buddy. There’s nothing else to say. So leave already.”

Turning her back on them, Beck attacked the glass on the floor with a broom from behind the bar.

“You must allow me to help you set things right here first,” Conall said stiffly.

Beck stopped sweeping and whirled around. “I don’t want or
need
your help. Get out.” She jabbed the broom at the splintered doors. “All of you. Bar’s closed.”

Evie stepped onto the porch with her two demon hunter escorts. The night was still except for the quiet sound of the river and the steady, rippling call of a whip-poor-will. Hard to believe that, moments before, ugliness and death had marred such a beautiful, serene night. Had things gone differently, right now she’d be dead or at the mercy of demons, a pawn for their evil leader to use God only knew how. The thought made Evie weak. The battle had cleared her head of the chocolate high, but she still felt wound up and jumpy.

She was also more than a little annoyed with Conall and his obvious contempt for Beck.

“She’s upset,” Evie said to him, not bothering to hide the accusation in her tone. “You hurt her feelings.”

“She is demonoid.” Conall spit the word out of his mouth, like it was a wad of something nasty.

Demonoid; subject closed. To him maybe, but not to her.

Conall stalked down the steps. After a moment’s hesitation, Evie started after him. She couldn’t let this one ride.

Ansgar put his hand on her shoulder. “Leave it be, Evangeline,” he said. “It is not our affair.”

“I’m making it my affair. I have a few things to say to the high and mighty captain of the Dalvahni.”

“Evangeline, wait—” Ansgar said.

But she was already down the steps.
Blip!
She caught up with Conall at the end of the pier. She felt, rather than heard, Ansgar come up behind her.

Conall stood at the end of the dock gazing out at the water, his broad, muscled back to them. He radiated power and detachment, and he seemed to draw the night around him like a mantle.

Evie hesitated. She was wasting her time. She hardly knew Conall. He was harsh and intimidating as all get-out, bleak and unapproachable, as hard and unforgiving as a stone. And those were his good points. His mind was obviously made up. He was a demon hunter, implacable in his beliefs, particularly when it came to the djegrali. What made her think she could change his mind?

Evie straightened her shoulders. She had to try. She owed it to Beck.

“The only good demonoid is a dead demonoid, is that it?” Evie said, challenge in her tone.

Conall turned to face her, his eyes dark and swirling with hidden danger like the river behind him. “Yes. She is accursed, the daughter of evil. I should have killed her. ’Twas my duty, yet I stayed my hand.”

“You know why?” Evie said. “Because somewhere deep down inside that shriveled-up thing you call a heart, you
know
Beck’s not evil. She’s a
person,
not a monster. She has a choice, like the rest of us, to do good or bad.”

“She is an abomination, the wicked by-blow of unmitigated evil. She is what she is, as am I. There is no choice for either of us.”

Evie wanted to shake him. She knew what it was like to be different, to never fit in, to be the object of ridicule and scorn. She didn’t know what kind of life Beck had led, but she could imagine. Better than Conall, perfect leader of a perfect race, at any rate.

“Beck can’t help who her parents are,” she said. “She had no more say-so in how she got here than you or I.”

“Why do you defend her?” Conall said. “She is nothing to you.”