Demon Hunting In a Dive Bar (38 page)

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Authors: Lexi George

BOOK: Demon Hunting In a Dive Bar
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“Thank goodness you are here,” Conall said. “I thought you would never come.”
Beck smiled up at him. “Did I keep you waiting long?”
“Only forever, my love.” Conall raised her hand to his lips. “But you were worth it.”
 
Evening wrapped the river in dusky arms, and the crickets and tree frogs joined in their nightly serenade. On the opposite bank, twinkle lights and lanterns glowed, turning the clearing where Beck’s had once stood into a fairyland. The band began a slow, lilting melody and couples drifted out of the crowd and onto the gleaming dance floor. They twirled to the music, tossing bits of laughter and conversation into the breeze. Evan stood in the dark, his brooding gaze on the festivities. A few feet away, the river flowed past stone steps and set a small boat nodding at the end of a dock. Weeping willows at the water’s edge dipped their frothy branches into the current.
“It was a beautiful wedding,” Ora Mae said at his side. “You should have gone.”
“She thinks I left Hannah.” Evan shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s better this way.”
“Family can be tough,” Ora Mae said. He heard sympathy in her voice. “Come up to my place and I’ll fix you a nice cup of tea. I made a fresh batch of scones this morning. Blueberry, from my own garden. Blueberries are a super food. Did you know that?”
“No,” Evan said, not bothering to conceal his impatience. Christ, why was he here with this lame old lady?
He followed Ora Mae up the path to her house. She was short and pudgy, but spry for an old broad, with thick calves ropey with muscle. Evan had trouble keeping up. The flowered dress she wore hit her just above the ankle, a belted, long sleeve affair with a lace collar. Her small, square feet were encased in sensible walking shoes.
“You said on the phone you wanted to talk,” Evan said, huffing a little. “What’s this about?”
“Patience, all in good time,” Ora Mae said. “You’ll feel better when you’ve had a little something to eat. Your blood sugar’s low. I can hear it in your voice. That’s why you’re so cross. It’s very important to keep your blood sugar level, you know. Those dips can make you cranky.”
Cross? He was mad as hell, and it didn’t have a damn thing to do with his blood sugar. When he’d first realized he was free, he’d been stoked out of his mind. Then reality had set in. He’d spent the last five months in purgatory, drifting and unmoored. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He’d never been on his own. Hagilth and Elgdrek had always called the shots, telling him what to do, but they were dead.
Freedom, he’d discovered, was scary as hell.
He left Hannah for a while, but he’d soon come slinking back. He didn’t fit in anywhere. He had no skills, no education, and no training, unless you counted the criminal kind. Hell, he could barely
read
. And he was wanted by the police in half a dozen states, thanks to his loving “parents.”
“How’d you find me, anyway?” Evan asked. He’d rented a rundown trailer in Froggy Bottom, a seedy, dilapidated area of Hannah, and had taken pains to stay under the radar. He didn’t want Beck or Conall to know he was around. He wasn’t family, huh? Well, screw her and the big demon hunter she’d rode in on.
I’m lying low, he told himself.
Taking some time to figure things out, and then I’ll blow this one horse shithole of a town for good. Later, losers. I’m gone.
“Oh, a little birdy told me,” Ora Mae said. “It’s hard to keep secrets in a small town.”
Reaching the top of the slope, she opened a twig gate fashioned in the shape of a cobweb. A lamppost with a wrought iron lantern illuminated her round, pleasant face and her eyes glinted behind her spectacles.
She motioned him through the gate. “Up the path and through the garden. My goodness, I’m tickled you’re here. I haven’t had company in a coon’s age.”
“Whatever the hell that means,” Evan muttered to himself. Her stupid Aunt Bea from Mayberry routine was getting on his nerves.
He stepped under a greenery arch heavy with hydrangea blooms. The garden on the other side of the gate was a riot of assorted flowers and blooming shrubs. The redbuds and dogwoods were blossoming, and the sweet scent of roses and honeysuckle mingled with the sharp, green tang of herbs. A hedge bunny stood frozen beside the path, a hedge hound in close pursuit. The lighted, pebbled walkway curved toward the house, a stucco cottage with ivy covered walls, and a metal bound door. Smoke curled out of the chimney and light spilled out of the snug leaded windows.
“Come in, come in,” Ora Mae said with a smile in her voice. Opening the door, she shooed him inside. “The bathroom’s that way, if you want to freshen up. I’ll put the kettle on.”
The bathroom was charming, with a claw foot tub, a toilet with a pull handle, and a pedestal sink. Evan washed his hands and wandered back out, poking around a bit while Ora Mae made tea and warmed the scones. The bottom floor of the cottage consisted of a cozy sitting room with a fireplace and a low, beamed ceiling, a small kitchen, and the bath. A narrow stair led to the second floor.
Having seen all there was to see, Evan slumped into a chair at the table and listened to the old lady’s chatter with half an ear. Like the fixtures in the bathroom, the kitchen appliances were nostalgic. The stove was shiny white porcelain with oversize knobs, four black burners, an oven and a bottom broiler. A red and silver emblem on the front of the appliance bore the name
Wedgewood.
The squat, old-timey, white fridge had a v-shaped handle, and an audible hum.
“There.” Ora Mae plunked a platter of scones on the table beside a steaming blue teapot. Seating herself across from him with her back to the door, she handed Evan a plate with two scones and poured him a cup of tea. The tea was fragrant, the scones warm and redolent of butter, sugar, and ripe berries. “I’m anxious for you to try these. It’s an old family recipe.”
Evan sweetened his tea and took a bite of scone to be polite. He’d never been a big eater, probably because Elgdrek and Hagilth had forgotten to feed him half the time, but he was suddenly ravenous.
The pastry melted on his tongue and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head, it tasted that damn good. He’d been living on Ramen noodles, and the pastry was flaky and delicious. Better than delicious; it satisfied some deep, unfilled
need
in him, a need he hadn’t even known existed. He ate the scones on his plate, and helped himself to two more.
“I do like to see a man eat,” Ora Mae said when the platter was empty. “Now we can talk.”
Evan sat back in his chair and tried to focus on his hostess. He’d eaten too much and it had made him sleepy. His lids drooped and he jerked himself awake.
“This is about Beck, isn’t it?” His speech sounded thick. “I know you two are friends. You found out I was still in town, and you’re trying to patch things up between us.”
“Cut the crap,” Ora Mae said. “I didn’t call you here to talk about your sister. She’s a nice kid and I’m fond of her, but I have a problem with you. You told that overgrown bag of steroids she married where the portal was, and he destroyed it. You’ve screwed up my plans.”
Evan wanted nothing more than to put his head down on the table and go to sleep. Just for a minute or two.
The scones
. The thought drifted through his groggy mind.
She put something in the scones.
Ora Mae folded her hands in her lap and waited. He frowned and tried to think. What did she say?
“Plans?” he mumbled. His lips felt numb.
Ora Mae leaned closer. “Where do you think Charlie Skinner got the secret ingredient for his special ’shine?”
Evan blinked at her dully. Behind her, a splash of color drew his befuddled gaze. Boots; sitting by the door next to the umbrella stand. Red and yellow boots with intricate black scrolling. Charlie’s boots.
A trickle of dread crept down his spine. He couldn’t move.
He dragged his gaze back to Ora Mae with an effort. “You killed Charlie.”
Ora Mae slammed her hands on the table, rattling the Little Dutch Boy and Girl salt and pepper shakers.
“Charlie was a no-talent slug who couldn’t find his ass with both hands and a road map.” Her eyes burned red in her motherly face. “He spied on me and he snuck into my garden and cut down one of my mimosas. Trees I grew from seedlings. Trees I watered and fertilized and fretted over like babies. Trees I spent
years
cultivating. Charlie took one of them. He came on my property and stole from me. And the idiot didn’t even know what he had. He chopped up that mimosa, put it in that paint thinner he called liquor, and fed it to the kith. Do you have any idea what that tree was worth? No, of course you don’t.”
“Drugs,” Evan said, forcing the word past his lips. “You sell drugs.”
“Any two bit hood can sell drugs. I sell nirvana, quality plants unmatched by any grower in the world. Ever hear of Purple Haze?” Ora Mae tilted her head. “No? It’s a strain of marijuana, and I grow it right here in Hannah. People come from all over to get my product. It’s a good business, but those trees were something special. They contain a powerful hallucinogen—the most powerful hallucinogen the world has ever known.” She gave Evan a look that made his blood run cold. “Your parents and I were working out a deal until Skinner interfered. Now your parents are dead and the portal’s closed. Thanks to you, I’ll have to find new associates.”
Evan watched, helpless, as the old lady rose from her chair and stomped around the table.
“You’ve caused me no end of trouble,” she said. “I’ve got plans for you.”
She lifted him from the chair and slung him over her shoulder like a sack of flour. Carrying him into the garden, she threw him inside a musty shed.
“Go to sleep, pretty boy, and dream,” Ora Mae said. She slammed the door and threw the bolt. “Dream about cakes and pies, and slabs of roasted meat. I’m going to fatten you up.”
Did you miss the other books in Lexi’s hilarious series?
DEMON HUNTING IN DIXIE
A warrior, a demon, and the girl next door . . .
Looking for Trouble
 
Addy Corwin is a florist with an attitude. A bad attitude, or so her mama says, ’cause she’s not looking for a man. Mama’s wrong. Addy
has
looked. There’s just not much to choose from in Hannah, her small Alabama hometown. Until Brand Dalvahni shows up, a supernaturally sexy, breathtakingly well built hunk of a warrior from—well, not from around here, that’s for sure. Mama thinks he might be European or maybe even a Yankee. Brand says he’s from another dimension.
 
Addy couldn’t care less where he’s from. He’s gorgeous. Serious muscles. Disturbing green eyes. Brand really gets her going. Too bad he’s a whack job. Says he’s come to rescue her from a demon. Puh-lease. But right after Brand shows up, strange things start to happen. Dogs talk and reanimated corpses stalk the quiet streets of Hannah. Her mortal enemy, Meredith, otherwise known as the Death Starr, breaks out in a severe and inexplicable case of butt boils. Addy might not know what’s going on, but she definitely wants a certain sexy demon hunter by her side when it all goes down....
DEMON HUNTING IN THE DEEP SOUTH
Demon-slayers, evil forces, and an über-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....
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
 
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
 
Copyright © 2013 Lexi George
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
 
Brava and the B logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-8613-0
 
 

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