Midlife Demon Hunter: The Forty Proof Series, Book 3

by Mayer, Shannon

  He had saved me. Again.

  I lay there and stared up at the shattered window and the shadow arms that clung to the edges. When you looked into darkness like that, and it looked back, there was only one thing to do.

  My body was moving, running on instinct before I could think it through, before I could even get a real breath of air. I ran, hobbling, sucking wind hard until I hit the front yard of Gran’s house. I hurtled over the small fence and crawled across the grass until I was under the oak tree. Robert hurried after me.

  “That was a terrible idea,” I said.

  “Bad,” he rumbled. He didn’t have a big vocabulary in this form, so I suspected the effort it had taken him to come out with bad meant it was maybe even worse than I’d thought.

  I stayed there under the oak tree, cold and shaking, for a long time—hours was what it felt like, but I couldn’t be sure. My mind was torn up, freaking out about what I’d seen and felt, about falling from a second-story window. Robert crouched beside me, unmoving, a silent companion. Or mostly silent.

  “Whiskey,” he finally said.

  “That’s a ducking excellent idea.” I pushed to my feet, my legs tingling from the stress of . . . everything. I let myself into the house, went straight for the liquor cabinet, and grabbed the full bottle of whiskey and a single glass.

  Maybe I could have gone to Crash and warmed myself with his heat. I could have called Corb or any of my other friends to be with me. But something had happened in that house with the blood-born demon that shook me to my core and made my old wounds raw again.

  I wasn’t sure I could face anyone. That I was worth facing anyone.

  Back out under the oak tree partially hidden by the hanging Spanish moss, I poured Robert a drink of whiskey first. He knocked it back like a pro, the golden liquid sliding down his spine and puddling under his butt bone.

  I put the bottle to my lips and tipped it back, drawing more than a shot or two, the firewater burning its way through me, driving out the cold. Lowering it, I drew a shaky breath and poured Robert another drink.

  Drink, pour, repeat. That became the mantra. The bottle was more than half empty by the time the sun starting going down. Bridgette came over at one point and asked me a question. I’m not sure what, but I saluted her with the whiskey bottle and mumbled, “Every house will whisper its secrets to you, if you listen.”

  She backed away, understandably, and I think she might have told me to sleep it off. I slumped against the oak tree, wondering where in the hell that had come from. No, that’s not true, I’d seen that saying somewhere. I fumbled with my bag and pulled out the old spell book. Or I pulled a spell book out. The kraft brown paper crinkled under my fingers as I cracked it open, looking for that line.

  I couldn’t find the passage I wanted, though—my drunken fingers unable to even separate pages properly, never mind find the right book. The sun was gone and with it the light, and I knew I had to be in Gran’s room, that I had to watch the house next door.

  I had to tell my friends to not come home. I dug around in my bag until I found the cell phone Suzy had insisted on. Managed to put together a group text, telling everyone to stay away from the house until things had settled.

  Stay away my friends, I love you so mmmmmuch, oh gawd, I’d feeling so ducking bad if something happened to, so you need to go sleep off somewhere else.

  “Too many things,” I whispered. I scrubbed my hands over my face, which meant I rubbed one side with the phone, and then looked at the book in my lap. I’d flipped all the way to the back looking for a silly saying about houses. The top edge of the back page curled ever so slightly, separated at the corner like . . . it was glued together?

  I picked at the edge with a fingernail, still drunk as a skunk but pleased to have a distraction from everything. The paper crackled as I pulled at it, and it slowly gave way under my persistence.

  A slip of paper fluttered out, hidden in that pocket between the pages. I picked it up and stared at the words, not really understanding what I was seeing. Of course, I read it out loud.

  “Of death and power, of magic and pain,

  That which comes shall find those slain,

  Raised anew and given life,

  A warning alone, this call is strife.”

  I frowned at the paper, turned it over to see nothing but a number on it. Three. What the hell did a three have to do with whatever it was I’d just read?

  I folded the paper, tucked it back into the pocket, and squeezed the edges shut. They stuck, not well, but they stuck. Good enough for me. I leaned my head back and looked up into the underside of the oak tree’s leaves.

  Feeling like shit. Not because I was drunk, but because the darkness in the Sorrel-Weed house had pricked holes into every piece of self-confidence I’d been building since Alan and I had split. Every fear, every worry that I was going to duck up this new life of mine, ate at me once more. The sound of footsteps turned my head to a man in a long black trench coat marching up my gran’s walkway to the steps leading up to the front door.

  I recognized him.

  “My plate spilleth the duck over,” I muttered to myself, doing that stage whisper the drunken do. You know the one.

  Roderick paused on the path and then bent over to look under the hanging moss and stare at me sitting under the oak tree, a half empty whiskey bottle in hand, skeletal buddy passed out beside me and snoring ever so slightly.

  I held up the bottle, forgetting for a moment that he was a council guy that I probably shouldn’t like at all. “Wanna drink?”

  16

  Roderick turned out not to be too bad in terms of the other douche-tastic council members. Okay, the only other ones I knew were Davin and No Face Bruce, but they’d both made an impression—neither good. Roderick may have forced magic on me in the hotel, but now he helped me to my feet and hustled me inside my gran’s house to the kitchen.

  He paused and tipped his head to the side as if listening to something, and then went to the counter nearest the sink.

  “Let’s get some coffee into you,” he said. “Where are your friends?”

  “Out.” I laid my head on the table, not liking the way the room spun and my stomach pretending it had never had whiskey before. Had I had that much of the amber drink?

  “Out? On jobs?” Before I knew it, he set a cup of coffee close enough that I could smell it and feel the warmth against the back of my hand.

  My stomach rolled, and I lurched out of the chair, barely making it to the kitchen sink. I heaved until my belly was empty, not sure if it was the whiskey or the residual darkness from the house next door that had sunk into my skin. I blinked and stared at the black bits and pieces that floated in the whiskey.

  Yeah, that couldn’t be good.

  “Bad mojo,” I whispered. I ran the water, rinsed my mouth, and a cold cloth was placed over the back of my neck.

  Slumping by the sink, I clung to the edge.

  Roderick cleared his throat. “The council would, of course, like to see you tonight.”

  “Of course they would,” I mumbled. “When?”

  “As soon as I can get you moving. They are waiting on us.”

  “Maybe I’ll just lie down on the floor then.” I slumped farther as if to make my point. He tucked a hand under my armpits and pulled me upward.

  Back on my feet once more, I had to admit, if only to myself, I was feeling much better already with an empty belly. The whiskey must have bounced around with whatever bad mojo I’d picked up from the Sorrel-Weed house and bounced it right back out.

  “You have until that coffee cup is empty, and then I’m taking you in.” Roderick leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. “And while you drink, I’m curious as to just what all that”—he motioned at the sink and the last few flecks of darkness that clung to the ceramic white basin—“was about. What exactly did you get into that you probably shouldn’t have?”

  I made my way carefully to the chair I’d apparent
ly flipped over and stood it back upright so I could lower myself into it. “I went into a place where a blood-born demon resides. I don’t recommend it. He is a rather large nasty ass.” I sipped at the coffee and grimaced. My preference was tea, but coffee was warranted in this situation. I dumped a bunch of sugar into it and stirred it around, finally lifting my eyes to see Roderick watching me closely.

  “What are you exactly?” he asked.

  “A mature, seasoned woman, who is all out of ducks to give,” I said and took another sip of the now overly sweetened coffee. I grimaced, not sure that the sugar had helped at all. But at least it was hitting my bloodstream quickly enough to perk me up.

  “Yes, I can see that part,” he said, not moving from his spot but I had the feeling he was tensing. “I can speculate there is a little fae blood in you, based on your grandmother’s dalliances with them.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Them? What do you mean by them?”

  He chuckled. “Celia has always wielded a great deal of power in Savannah. The strongest witch our town has seen in two hundred years, from a long line of powerful witches unique for coming into their power late in life. Her daughter died before anyone knew if she carried the power, and her granddaughter”—he dipped his head toward me—“was, for all intents and purposes, a dud in terms of witching magic. Yet you came back to Savannah and the shadow world in this town is suddenly ramping up as if preparing for a war.”

  I took a sip of coffee. “You digress. You said them in reference to my gran’s lovers.”

  Holy shit, Gran’s lovers. As in plural.

  Roderick gave a wry grin. “Hard to think about your parents or grandparents getting busy between the sheets, isn’t it?”

  I grimaced and it had nothing to do with the horrid drink in my hand. I held onto it for the warmth and because it helped dispel some of the cold that still clung to me. “Spit it out.”

  He tipped his head toward me. “She liked the fae. Their magic meshed well with hers. While she did settle down with one in particular, your grandfather to be exact, there was a time when she . . . hosted several in her home.” His grin was altogether too ducking cheeky for this conversation. I shivered with what it could mean. He didn’t appear to be fae, but was he one of those she’d hosted?

  Jaysus, Gran, you could have warned me. No wonder she was making herself scarce. She wouldn’t want me to know how wild she had been in her prime. Certainly not in front of a council member.

  “Awesome. So my gran had a bit of a cat house going on,” I said.

  He shrugged. “She always did as she pleased, before and after the council was created. Once your grandfather won her heart, though, she was all in from what I remember. She was a loyal woman in many areas.” He frowned and looked down, shook his head. “I hear rumors you might be following in her footsteps. Trying out the variety of dishes offered to you?”

  I blew a raspberry, feeling much restored after a big puke and a little horridly sweet coffee. And I surely was not going to discuss my mess of a relationship status with this guy. “I’m dating casually. That’s what you do after a shitty breakup. You don’t jump into another relationship as a fix.”

  His smile said he didn’t believe me for one second. Hell, I didn’t believe me, but I was trying. I took another sip of the coffee. I might as well get this council meeting over with. I didn’t doubt they would send someone else to get me if I refused.

  Besides, it wasn’t like the goblins would take a shot at me while I was with a council member, right?

  But maybe No Face Bruce who might just be a vampire would. I shuddered and pushed the coffee cup away from me.

  “Look, I have to get a few things. Can you wait outside and then I’ll come along like a good little girl?” I stood and scooted my chair back.

  His eyes tracked me as I got to my feet, and he smiled. “That’s a lie if ever I heard one. But I’ll wait outside. You have five minutes before I come in and get you.”

  I waved a hand at him and made my way through the house to the stairs. Up I went, one at a time, feeling a little unlike myself. I got to the top of the stairs and quickly checked the other bedrooms. Suzy’s was still a quietly brewing swamp, and Feish’s and Eric’s rooms were both empty.

  I checked my phone and saw some laughing faces in response to my drunken text, but everyone had seen it, with the exception of Crash. The others would all stay away then. That was good.

  I turned and caught a glimmer of Gran’s skirts in her room. I followed the movement in, but she ducked into her bathroom.

  I sighed. “Look, Gran, I don’t care if you took half of Savannah to bed. I really don’t. But I . . .” I was going to tell her I wanted her help, that I needed her, but I found myself backpedaling. “I have to go out. Will you keep an eye on that window across the way for me? Please? Just tell me if anyone comes in, especially a goblin. I don’t think they will, not with that demon watching over things, but still . . .”

  It was the best I was going to be able to do, given that there was no one else in the house I could ask. Even as I glanced at the room opposite Gran’s, a shadow moved. I frowned.

  The window in the Sorrel-Weed house that Robert had pulled me through in order to save my life was somehow fully intact, no longer broken. This despite the sound of shattering glass and the impossible logistics of how we’d gotten through it. I swallowed hard and backed out of the room, feeling the weight of those eyes watching me from the darkness as surely as if they were laser pointers. The demon grinned at me, showing all shining silver teeth in the pitch black of that house.

  I backed all the way into my room and shut the door, leaning my head against it.

  “About damn time!” Alan barked and I spun with a shriek.

  “Jaysus Christmas!” I yelled at him. “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”

  He glared at me from his spot under the window. “I don’t want to stay here.”

  “Well, I don’t much want you around either,” I replied as I pulled out my leather pants and boots. I quickly changed into my work clothes. I didn’t know what Gerry had done when she made them, but it was like they never really needed cleaning. They never even smelled bad. It was basically the dream outfit. I really needed another set, though, maybe one with that camouflaging effect I wanted.

  “You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Alan said.

  “That’s what happens when you’re not eating your emotions anymore,” I grumbled as I strapped the sheaths that held my two knives to my upper thighs and slid my bag over my shoulder.

  “Can I come with you?” he asked quietly.

  I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw just how afraid he was, and I tried not to feel bad for him, I really did. But I’d been with him a long time, and I knew him inside and out and could read him like a book. Damn it, he was pitiful.

  And even if he did deserve to suffer, I wasn’t the kind of person to deliberately hurt someone who was in pain already. I sighed. “You can come with me, but you need to stay out of my way.”

  He stood and put the hat on his balding head. “Maybe I can pick up some stuff from my place after?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I answered without really thinking about it. Not like he could actually pick anything up.

  I hurried down the stairs and out the front door, Alan on my heels. I checked on Robert first, much to Roderick’s amusement.

  “What are you looking for? A heartbeat?” he asked. “He’s already dead.”

  “Oh, nothing,” I said as I listened to Robert snorting in his sleep, a rattling of teeth and gurgling of throat that was not really there. “He usually comes with me, though.”

  “Anything else before we go?” Roderick asked with only a slight dose of sarcasm. His eyes flicked to Alan. “What about this one?”

  “I’m stuck with him for now, so he’s coming along,” I muttered.

  Alan snorted. “I was stuck with you for years.”

  Oh, I would’ve strangled him right then
if I could’ve.

  I pursed my lips. “How far is this council place?”

  “Ten miles.”

  Both my eyebrows shot up. “And we’re walking?”

  “That is the general rule of thumb in Savannah.”

  I snorted. “Maybe for you.” I tapped the ground with my foot. “Skel, I need a ride.” The skeleton horse Robert had introduced me to pulled himself (I’d decided I would go with a boy, seeing as all identifying parts were pretty much gone) out of the ground one hoof at a time.

  Roderick stumbled back a few steps and swallowed hard. “Is that . . . is that what I think it is?”

  “A quasi-skeleton horse, yes.” I patted Skel’s neck, pleased to see that it had fleshed out more since I’d ridden him last. I paused before getting up in the saddle. “One more thing.”

  “Of course there is,” Roderick said. “There is always one more thing with you women.”

  “Watch it. Keep talking like that, and one of those women is likely to throw a knife at you,” I said, half laughing. I mean, I didn’t want to like Roderick, but he seemed exceptionally relaxed considering my interactions with Davin.

  Davin the dipshit.

  Davin the deceiver.

  Davin the . . . demon?

  I shuddered on that last one, even if it was just wordplay.

  “This one’s easy. Just wait here for a second with my friend Skel. I need to check something.” I said it over my shoulder as I rounded the side of the house, not giving Roderick much choice. Ignoring the Sorrel-Weed house and whatever demon lurked in there, I hurried to the door that led into the basement and Crash’s forge. I had to make sure he’d stay away. Not only so he wouldn’t get hurt, but also because he didn’t know that I was dealing with a goblin problem.

  Down the steps and through the door I went, shutting it behind me. “Crash?”

  There was no sound—no hammering of steel, no whoosh of the forge going. No smell of burning coal.