Demon Hunting In the Deep South (38 page)

“He could have given me a blender, for Pete’s sake.”

“Not
your
wedding present, Addy,” Evie said. “Lenora’s . . . and his, too, if you think about it. Shep has asked her to marry him.”

“What?”

Evie winced as the plate glass window rattled and the clock on the wall chinged and chimed. Super Addy had a voice that shattered glass when she got excited.

“Oh, yeah,” Evie said. “I forgot to tell you about that.”

“When? Where? And how come I’m just now finding out about this?”

“Lenora and I hung out together last night.”

Addy’s expression soured. “I heard.”

“We went drinking, only I couldn’t get drunk and we wound up at Beck’s Bar and—”

“Hold the phone. You went
where
?”

“Beck’s Bar,” Evie repeated patiently.

“Damn. I’ve heard about that place. What was it like?”

“Seemed like a regular bar to me, except for the demonoids. I think the scary rep is to keep normals away.”

“Whoa, it’s a demonoid bar?”

“Yeah, the owner’s name is Beck, and she sucks demons out of people with one of those little metal thingies on the end of a liquor bottle and she keeps them in a glass jar.”

“Shut your mouth,” Addy exclaimed. “And you went there without me? Girlfriend, we are in a
fight.
”

Evie held up her hand. “True story. Anyhoo, Lenora was dancing on the bar and I had this great chocolate martini and got a little tiddly—
finally
. Oh, and Beck keeps these chocolate Bugles on the bar that are the bomb.” Evie smiled in ecstasy at the memory. “They are so good, Addy, but
do not buy them
. They will change your life. They should come with a warning on the package that says DANGER: DO NOT EAT. Those Bugles are
world
shifting.”

“I get the picture,” Addy said. “You really liked the Bugles.”

Evie opened her eyes wide. “Like? They will expand your universe and your thighs.” She shook her head. “Anyway, while we were there, this demon chick comes in with these two scary guys, and there was a big fight. Shep shows up swinging a golf club and puts a beat down on some of the demons and then he asked Lenora to marry him, and she said yes.”

Addy dropped the painting to the floor and staggered over to a stool. “Holy mother of criminy Christmas. That inter-dimensional super hussy is going to be my sister-in-law?”

“She loves him,” Evie said, “and Shep loves her. You should be happy for them.”

“But what happens when he gets old and she leaves him?” Addy shook her head. “What kind of a future do they have?”

“I do not believe Shep’s age will be an issue,” Ansgar said.

Addy lifted her head to glare at him. “Oh, yeah? How do you figure that, Blondy, when she’s immortal and he’s not?”

Ansgar raised his brows. “Have you not noticed the changes in your brother?”

Addy’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God, you’re right. I thought it was the hair, but it’s more than that, isn’t he? He is different.” She frowned. “But how?”

“I cannot say for certain, but I believe it is related to Shep having sexual congress with the thrall.” Ansgar cleared his throat. “Repeatedly.”

Evie chuckled. “I guess you could say she rubbed off on him.”

Addy wrinkled her nose. “Ew, do you mind? This is my big brother we’re talking about here.”

“Lenora has feelings for Shep,” Ansgar said. “Somehow, she has changed him.”

“And Shep has changed her,” Evie added, growing serious. “She’s crazy about him, Adds. Really.”

The front door rattled, and they looked up to find Nicole peering through the glass at them. Frodo peeked over her shoulder from a velour carrying pouch, his eyes glowing like coals amid the wild mass of curls on his head. With his pointy nose and the crazy hair, he was a canine King Charles II of England. Standing behind Nicole and Frodo were Muddy and Mr. C.

“I’ll get it,” Evie said, hurrying to let them in.

“I would have come through the back, but I forgot the code. Am I late?” Nicole said as she entered the shop. From the pouch on her back, Frodo chortled at them in greeting like a frizzy-haired miniature T. rex.

Nicole wore one of Evie’s old dresses. The garment hit her at the ankles—Nicole was a good four inches shorter than Evie—and was too tight across the bosom. “It took me two showers and some of Evie’s special kitchen soap to cut through the bacon grease. I like to never got the shower clean. It was slicker than a rat’s ass in a Crisco factory.” She stopped in her tracks, looking around at the paintings in awe. “Man, oh man,” she said. “If this ain’t something like.”

“Quite magnificent,” Mr. Collier agreed. “Who’s the artist?”

Addy straightened on the stool. “Shep,” she said in a tone that dared them to criticize her brother.

Mr. Collier gave a low whistle. “You don’t say? He has real talent.”

Muddy had put on her glasses to better inspect one of the nudes. “Does your mother know your brother paints dirty pictures?”

“No, ma’am,” Addy said.

“Oh, goody,” Muddy said. “I want to be here when she finds out. This is going to be fun.”

“Oh, yeah,” Addy mumbled. “In the same way jabbing a piece of glass in your eye or setting yourself on fire is fun.”

Nicole’s chin quivered. “They’re beautiful. Every last one of ’em. Makes me want to burn my stuff and start over.”

“You’re an artist?” Mr. Collier asked.

Nicole turned red. “Nah, I ain’t no artist. I fool around a bit, that’s all. I ain’t never had lessons or nothing like that. We was always too poor.”

“I’d love to see some of your work,” Mr. Collier persisted. “Have you got anything with you?”

Nicole hung her head and scuffed her shoe on the floor. “Most of it was in the trailer, but I got a few things in my truck. Nothing as fine as these here paintings, mind you. I make my stuff out of whatever I find laying around.”

“You’re an eco-artist,” Mr. Collier exclaimed. “I am, too! I create sculpture out of copper wire, coat hangers, and scrap metal. What do you use?”

“Pop tops and bottle caps, old bottles and rubber tires, tin cans.” Nicole shrugged. “But mostly I use cigarette butts.”

“Fascinating. Now I
must
see something of yours.” Mr. Collier looked at Addy. “That is, if you don’t mind, my dear. I know y’all have work to do.”

Nicole shot Addy a nervous look. “That’s okay. Some other time, maybe.”

“Oh, for crying in the beer.” Addy waved her hand at the door. “Go.”

“You sure?” Nicole said.

“Go.”

Nicole scooted outside, returning in record time carrying a large rectangular package wrapped in butcher paper. She tore off the paper, revealing the canvas underneath.

Evie caught her breath, and not because of the faint smell of tobacco and ashes that rose from the picture. “Why, Nicole, it’s beautiful.”

Frodo yowled in agreement.

It was a primitive painting of an old woman sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of a weathered farmhouse. Nicole had added texture to the picture using the paper and tobacco from the cigarettes, giving a three-dimensional effect. The woman on the porch had her head bent, and she was shelling peas into a bowl. The portrait was so vivid, so loving, that Evie could almost feel the breeze that pressed the woman’s worn cotton shift against her legs and lifted the stray pieces of gray hair that had escaped her bun.

“I know that house.” Mr. Collier drew closer, an odd expression on his face. “Know the woman, too. That’s Ima Faye Smelley. She was married to my mother’s cousin, Luke Smelley, over McCullough way.”

“Luke Smelley was my pop pop,” Nicole said, her voice rising with excitement.

Mr. Collier beamed at her. “How ’bout that? We’re kin.”

Nicole’s mouth sagged in surprise. “No way.”

“My mother and your great-granddaddy were first cousins,” Mr. Collier said, “which means—if I’m figuring this right, and don’t hold me to it—you and I are third cousins once removed.”

“Oh.” Nicole looked somewhat deflated. Frodo seemed to sense her disappointment and stuck his snoot against her neck. That or he was getting ready to eat her. “That ain’t so much then.”

“Nonsense.” Mr. Collier’s tone was brisk. “Once a Smelley, always a Smelley, that’s what my mama used to say.”

Muddy clapped her hands. “Amasa, darling, I have the most wonderful idea. You’ve been talking for ages about opening an art gallery in the old five and dime building. Well, this is the cosmos telling you to do it! It will be the perfect place to show your work, and Shep and Nicole’s, too.”

“Thank you, Jesus,” Addy said. “I love my brother, but I’d like my shop back.”

“By golly, Edmuntina, you’re right,” Mr. Collier said, his eyes alight.

Muddy’s mouth turned up in a cat-got-the-canary smile. “And, as an added bonus, it will pearl Bitsy’s onions to have Shep’s dirty pictures on public display.”

“Muddy, you are positively wicked,” Addy said.

“Speak of the devil,” Evie said as Bitsy bustled through the front door, looking the picture of funereal perfection in a little black dress and matching bolero jacket.

“Dressed for the Peterson shindig already, Mama?” Addy asked. “It’s a little early to be wearing your planting duds, isn’t it? The service isn’t until two o’clock.”

“Don’t be vulgar, Adara Jean. It is a funeral, not a shindig, and I do not wear ‘planting duds.’ ” Bitsy’s hands flew in the air like birds, a sure sign she was upset. “I am beside myself. Shep called me a few minutes ago. Said he and Lenora are getting married.
Married,
can you believe it? And all this time, I thought they were having a fling.”

“The way I see it, that’s a good thing, Hibiscus,” Muddy said. “Means you didn’t raise the boy to be a dick whittler.”

“She’s nothing like Marilee,” Bitsy continued, appearing not to notice her aunt’s crudity. Goodness, she
was
upset. “Different as chalk and cheese. What kind of a wife will she be for my boy? Where’s she from and who are her people? We don’t know anything about her. And what kind of mother will she be to my grandchildren? I mean, goodness, did you see her last night at the club in that string dress?” Bitsy shuddered. “Scandalous.”

Addy set down the length of ribbon she was working on for a bouquet. “Shep’s not a boy, Mama. He’s a man. And he’s a fine father. You know he would never do anything to hurt Lily and William. He loves Lenora, and she makes him happy. That’s good enough for me.”

“But how do you know he loves her, Adara Jean?” Bitsy wrung her hands. “How can you be sure this isn’t about the s-e-x?”

“Open your eyes, Mama, and look around. This is Shep Corwin saying
I love Lenora
to the whole world, and saying it loud and clear.”

Bitsy turned her head, her eyes widening when she saw the paintings. “Merciful heavens,” she said.

“Told you it would pearl her onions,” Muddy said as Bitsy went pale with shock.

“There she goes,” Evie cried. “Quick, Ansgar.”

Blip!
Ansgar crossed the room, catching Bitsy as she fell.

Chapter Thirty-eight

A
nsgar surveyed the Peterson home from the opposite side of the shady street. The dwelling was impressive, three stories of mellow brick with rows of narrow, gleaming windows. Ansgar breathed deeply. It was good to get away from the flower shop and the unceasing activity and noise there. He’d been itching to be at the hunt all morning, but caution and concern for Evangeline had made him wait for Brand to arrive.

“Where have you been?” he’d demanded earlier that morning when Brand had finally made an appearance at the shop. Like Ansgar, Brand was dressed in the modern raiment that humans called jeans and a T-shirt. “I have been waiting for you.”

Brand’s dark brows had risen at Ansgar’s brusque tone. “I had a meeting with Conall.”

Evangeline, busy behind the counter with a customer, gave them a curious look. Reining in his temper, Ansgar had drawn Brand aside.

“And?” he’d said more quietly.

“He does not want Blake Peterson killed, not until we see how things unfold. He suspects the demonoids may be in league with the djegrali, and he would very much like to know their plans. Blake Peterson has money, position, and power. As such, he is a natural leader among the demonoids and may be in bed with the demons. Conall thinks he bears watching.”

Ansgar swore. “Evangeline is my only concern. I will do what I must to protect her, Conall and the consequences be damned.”

“I understand, brother. Were I in your place, I would feel the same.” Brand put his hand on Ansgar’s shoulder. “Console yourself with the knowledge that Evie is in little danger with a Dalvahni warrior at her side.”

“Aye, that is true enough. The Dalvahni have ever been a match for the cursed djegrali.” Ansgar frowned. “What do you make of Conall’s sudden interest in Hannah?”

“From the first, he has suspected there is more at work here than ordinary demon mischief. Of late, though, his interest seems to have taken a more . . . personal turn.”

“There is something I must do,” Ansgar had said. “Will you stay with Evangeline until I return? I dare not leave her alone for fear of the djegrali.”

“Certainly, but where are you going?”

“To pay Blake Peterson a visit.”

“Curb your spleen, brother. I know you are anxious to clear Evie’s name, but remember Conall’s orders.”

“Conall said not to kill the man,” Ansgar had said with a shrug. “He did not say I could not question him.”

Satisfied that Evangeline would be safe in Brand’s care, Ansgar had left the shop and traveled here, to the Peterson home. He studied the property more closely. The gardens were lush and extensive. The entranceway at the front of the house was decorated with hay bales and pumpkins. A wreath of colorful leaves, berries, and pinecones hung from the tall front door. Workmen were busy on the grounds, lining flowerbeds with straw and trimming and carrying away dead limbs. Ansgar became invisible and walked around the side of the house. A pair of arched doors opened onto an inviting outdoor space with tables and chairs and an outdoor oven. The side entrance was barred, but that presented no hindrance to a Dal. Ansgar put his hand on the metal handle and heard the lock snick. He eased the door open and stepped inside.