by Lexi George
“You ate my finger, you crazy old bag.” Sassy gave her a sullen glare. “How do you think I feel?”
“Scone?” Ora Mae waved a wicker basket at Sassy. “Made them myself. Got to keep up your strength.”
“No, thank you. You got what you wanted. Now let me go.”
“Dream on, little thief. You’re not going anywhere except my tummy.” Ora Mae whirled about. “What was that?”
Sassy stilled, listening. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“I did,” Ora Mae said. “Someone’s sneaking around outside.”
“It’s Grim.” Sassy’s hopes soared. “He’s come for me.”
Ora Mae’s nostrils flared. “Nah. It’s a woman. I smell her perfume.”
She threw down the looking glass and stalked out the door.
“Help,” Sassy cried in desperation. “Help me, whoever you are. She’s holding me prisoner.”
Irilmoskamoseril appeared. “What are you on about?”
“Mose.” Sassy felt like crying. She was saved. “Am I glad to see you. It’s the witch. She’s going to eat me.”
“Criminy.” Mose examined Sassy’s injured hand. “Ate your finger, did she?”
“Yes, and it hurts.”
“Huh. Seems to be growing back.”
“What?”
Sassy looked down at her hand. Sure enough, a bright pink nubbin of flesh protruded where her finger had been. Her finger was regenerating.
“Still, you can’t allow every Tom, Dick, and Harry to go around cutting things off willy-nilly,” Mose said. “Reckon you’d better do something about it.”
“Me?” Sassy stared at him in outrage. “I thought that’s why you were here.”
“Sorry, puss. I’m your nester, not a wet nurse.”
“Mose, wait. Don’t leave. Mose.”
To Sassy’s fury and dismay, he disappeared. She was on her own.
“Ooh,” she fumed. “Of all the irritating, annoying—”
She heard footsteps at the side of the house and flinched. Ora Mae was back. A sour taste flooded Sassy’s mouth, and her head buzzed with fright.
Bunny rabbits, she had to do something, but what? She was out of options.
Almost.
Could she do it? Maybe not, but she had to try.
Sassy inhaled and retreated inward, sounding the depths of her subconscious like a whale in the ocean. Her epizootie in the Sweet Shop had been the product of resentment, stress, and an out-of-control sweet tooth. Resentment Sassy had in spades. She’d escaped a suffocating relationship with her mother only to land in this horror story.
Mama had used her as an emotional crutch. The witch wanted to have her for breakfast.
And lunch.
And dinner.
Forever.
Resentment and fear paled in comparison with Sassy’s desire—no, her overwhelming need to see Grim. To hold him once more and tell him how much she loved him.
She would not abandon him to darkness again.
She went deeper inside herself. Shutting out thoughts of the witch and her present situation, she concentrated on . . . what? What should she focus on? This was her last best hope. If this didn’t work, her goose was cooked.
Too bad she didn’t know what she was doing.
No negativity. Think positive.
To her delight, a tingling warmth started at her toes and spread. Elation flooded Sassy, then alarm.
Something was happening, something big. The feeling of power swelled, an ocean rising within her. She gritted her teeth. The pressure pushed and expanded. She was going to pop.
The door opened and Ora Mae stomped inside carrying a curvaceous blonde over one shoulder. She dumped the unconscious female in the chair beside Sassy’s. The woman was lovely; smooth skin, a delicate straight nose, curving cheekbones, and a full mouth.
Ora Mae glanced at Sassy and did a double take. “Look at you glowing like the Fourth of July.”
Light radiated from Sassy’s body in soft, pulsing waves.
“I’m channeling my purple whatzit,” Sassy said. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let us go.”
“Purple whatzit?” Ora Mae snorted. “I’m shaking in my drawers, Strawberry Shortcake.” Her gaze moved to Sassy’s hand and she grinned. “New finger? Hot damn, I’ve hit the fairy jackpot. I got me a never-ending all-you-can-eat buffet.”
Dimly, Sassy registered the threat and brushed it aside. She was ten pounds of sugar squeezed into a five-pound bag. Tremors racked her body. Frightened, she tried to put on the brakes, but it was too late. The power she’d unleashed condensed and contracted, fusing into a shell around a surging core of energy.
Ora Mae seemed oblivious to Sassy’s distress. She tied the unknown woman’s hands and feet to the chair, and stepped back.
“Found this one poking around outside,” Ora Mae said. “Name’s Cassandra Ferguson. Hit her with my wrench.”
An ugly lump on the woman’s forehead confirmed the witch’s words. Blood trickled over one eye and down Cassandra’s cheek.
Ora Mae shook the woman by the shoulder. “Wake up, you.”
Cassandra moaned and opened her eyes. “Miz Luker?” She sounded confused, and her speech was slurred. “My head hurts.”
“It’s gonna hurt worse if you don’t tell me what you’re doing on my land.” Ora Mae shook her again. “Did that demon hunter send you?”
“No one sent me, and this is my land. Been in my family for generations.”
“Liar. This is McKenna land. Always has been.”
“That’s right. I’m Cassandra Ferguson McKenna.” Cassandra gave Ora Mae a defiant glare. “Which means you’re trespassing.” She tugged at the ropes that bound her. “What is the meaning of this? Why am I tied up?”
Ora Mae rocked back on her heels, her expression bemused.
“How ’bout that,” she said. “We could be related.” She gave Cassandra a piercing look. “You kin to Luke McKenna?”
“He farmed this land. What of it?”
“I was married to him, back in the day.”
“I doubt it. Luke McKenna died in 1828.” Cassandra noticed Sassy with a start. “Who are you?”
“Never mind her,” Ora Mae snapped. “I want to know more about—”
She stiffened. “Oh, no. Not now.”
With a wet plop, Ora Mae reverted to hag form.
Cassandra took one look at the Hag and screamed, a terrified wail of revulsion that went on and on.
The Hag slapped her. “Shut up. Shut up.”
Cassandra strained against the ropes. “I won’t shut up. You killed them. You killed Jamie’s babies.”
“Don’t know a Jamie, and I haven’t killed a child since—” The Hag grunted in alarm as the floor swelled beneath her feet. “What the hell—”
The star in Sassy’s chest bloomed and expanded outward, bleaching the unpainted walls stark white. The cabin walls shook, and the ground rumbled. Dust and grit rained down on them. Light streamed from Sassy’s convulsing body and her chair danced across the floorboards. Outside, the wind howled and moaned. The air grew heavy with the scents of flowers, earth, rain, and green things.
The Hag staggered. “What are you doing? Stop that.”
Sassy didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She threw her head back and went supernova.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Grim raced through the mill gates and down the road, desperate to find Sassy. Nothing. The red dirt was rutted with numerous carriage tracks. No way to discern which direction Furr had gone.
No, not Furr; Sassy was in the witch’s clutches. The Hag had used her black magic to assume Furr’s shape and worm her way into the inner circle of the mill. She had been there for days, under his nose, waiting for her chance to nab Sassy.
And Grim had given it to her.
Grim wanted to rage, to pound Duncan into dust for leaving Sassy. In truth, though, Duncan was not to blame. Grim never should have left Sassy in another’s care. His warrior’s
pride and his desire to prove himself as Sassy’s mate and protector had placed her in danger, not Duncan.
If he did not find her . . .
Grim threw back his head and howled.
Duncan materialized with Collier. Sweat beaded the human’s forehead and his face was a delicate shade of green. Apparently, the Dalvahni mode of transport did not agree with him.
“Any sign of them?” Duncan asked.
“No.”
Grim clenched his fists. He longed to strike something, anything to relieve the awful pressure of fear, recrimination, and frustration.
“Hit me,” Duncan said.
“What?”
“Hit me. I know you want to. I can see it in your face.”
Grim’s rage exploded, and he slammed his fist into Duncan’s face. The big warrior went sprawling.
Duncan climbed back to his feet rubbing his jaw. “Feel better?”
“No.”
“Perhaps Collier can help—”
“Now wait just a goldurn minute . . .” Collier sputtered in alarm.
“With his contrabulator,” Duncan said.
“Oh.” The human relaxed. “Sure. Be glad to.”
Removing his divining rod from his belt, Collier ambled off.
Grim spotted a hawk circling high above. Without hesitation, he threw his mind into the sky and connected with the creature. There was a dizzying moment of disorientation. Then the world spread out before him in rumpled splendor. Roads spider-veined the forests and fields, and sundry conveyances traveled down the byways.
Grim’s heart sank. There were too many vehicles. No way to know which one contained Sassy.
He broke the link with the hawk to find Duncan staring at him.
“’Twas passing strange,” Duncan said. “You were here . . . and yet not. Are you well, brother?”
Grim flushed. His peculiar talent was another thing that set him apart from his brothers. Gryff had accepted him without judgment. Not so, Grim feared, the rest of the Dal.
Be that as it may. He would hide no more.
“I have the ability to meld with animals,” Grim said without preamble. “I bonded with a hawk to search for signs of the witch.”
Duncan arched a brow. “Indeed? And what found you?”
“Naught.” Panic clawed at Grim’s vitals. He slammed his fist into a nearby tree, shattering it. “In truth, I know not where to look.”
“Collier returns,” Duncan said. “Perhaps he has found something.”
Collier ambled up. “Contrabulator’s not picking up anything.”
Frustration gnawed at Grim’s vitals. He paced back and forth like an agitated lion. Nothing; he had nothing to lead him to Sassy. A feeling of helplessness swept over him. It terrified Grim as no enemy could. He was a warrior accustomed to action, not idleness. Much more of this and he would run mad.
An eager beep distracted him from his frantic thoughts. Mea, Sassy’s automobile, purred driverless down the road. Easing up to Grim, the car nudged his leg like an insistent hound.
Hope blazed. The magical car was attuned to Sassy. Mea would find her.
Grim leaped behind the wheel. “Mea, take me to your mistress.”
“Grim, why do you—”
Mea’s engine growled with impatience. Grim was impatient, as well.
“Not now, Duncan,” he said. “I will explain later.”
In a flash, Duncan was in the passenger seat. “I will accompany you.”
“Me, too.” Collier hopped in the back. He had not Dalvahni speed, but he moved with surprising agility for a man his age. “Might need my contrabulator.”
Grim hesitated. A wise warrior knew when to ask for help. His hubris had placed Sassy in danger once. It would not do so again.
“Very well,” Grim said. “Onward to Sassy, and tarry not.”
Grim gripped the steering wheel and Mea plunged down the road like a wild stallion. They zoomed past the startled occupants of several vehicles and reached the paved byway in short order. A large black truck blocked the entrance to the highway.
Mea squealed to a halt, engine snarling in annoyance.
Evan jumped out of the truck. “Saw the smoke from town. Is the Lollipop okay?”
“No,” Grim said. “Move your conveyance.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
“The witch has kidnapped Sassy,” Grim ground out.
“What?” Evan’s forehead bulged and his eyes turned black. “Ebban kill witch.”
“Stop that and get out of the way,” Grim snapped. “I tire of your antics.”
“Sorry.”
With a visible effort, Evan controlled himself. Climbing in his truck, he moved his vehicle. Mea squealed onto the highway in a cloud of dust.
“I am no expert on human machines, but there is something peculiar about this automobile,” Duncan said. “Almost it seems . . . sentient. Care to explain, Grim?”
“No.”
“Something odd about that feller in the truck, too,” Mr. Collier said from the backseat. “Did you see the way his head swelled up like a punkin?”
Grim made no answer. His will and thoughts were focused on getting to Sassy. Damn this infuriating mode of transport. Mea moved swiftly, but no human machine could match the speed of the Dalvahni. If he but had some inkling of Sassy whereabouts, he could be at her side in a trice.
Instead, he must trust Mea to find her before it was . . .
His mind balked. No, he was not too late.
“He’s following us, you know, that feller,” Collier said. “We got us a convoy.”
Grim glanced in the mirror. Sure enough, Evan’s truck was close behind.
“Kehv’s toenails,” Grim muttered.
Snuffling and whining, Mea left the highway and turned onto a road that ran through the woods beside the river.
“Listen to that engine,” Collier said. “Reminds me of one of my old hunting dogs.”
Mea turned down a narrow dirt track.
Collier leaned over the front seat. “We’re headed for the old McKenna place. What in the world made you come out here?”
The human thought he was driving. He had no idea Mea was acting on her own.
“A . . . er . . . hunch,” Grim said.
Mea hummed down the dirt road. She wound a mile or so from the river and turned into a short, grassy drive that ended at a wide metal gate. Beyond the gate, cultivated fields stretched to a copse of trees in the distance.
“Huh,” Collier said. “Wonder who’s farming this place? To my knowledge, hasn’t been a McKenna working this land since the fifties.”
The rutted, weed choked path continued on the other side of the gate. The gate was locked. The car whined and pushed her nose against the metal grill.
Sassy was in there. Grim was sure of it. So was Mea.
Grim blew the gate off the hinges with a lift of his hand. Mea charged through the opening and bumped down the furrowed trail.
Evan rumbled after them in his truck.
They passed a barn that held farm equipment.
“We’re cl-o-o-se,” Collier stammered, jarred by the rough ride. “Con-tra-bu-la-a-tor’s hu-humming.”
Mea sped up, bouncing faster over the rough track. They were indeed close. Grim’s vision narrowed, and his muscles twitched with eagerness. He would find Sassy, and she would be unharmed.
If she were not, the world would bleed.
They reached the stand of trees. Beyond it, they found a small weed-choked clearing. Mea purred into the open space and stopped, trembling. Evan rumbled up and parked beside them. In the center of the plot of land stood a dilapidated cabin. The metal roof of the structure was rusted, the unpainted walls pocked with gaping holes, like missing teeth in the skull of some decaying beast. A small front porch drooped from the front of the house. A towering oak provided shade at the back of the property. Beneath the oak were three small headstones.
All these things Grim noted and filed away with a warrio
r’s practiced eye for his surroundings. His attention was riveted on the vehicle next to the sagging porch.
The vehicle belonged to Eddie Furr; Grim recognized the dented blue truck from the mill. Relief, anxiety, and deadly purpose combined in a dizzying rush. Sassy was here. They had found her.
A high-pitched whine made him turn. Collier’s device was a dull, angry orange.
“Demon,” Collier whispered. “You sure this is the place?”
Grim exited the car in a blur of motion. “Aye.”
As he drew his sword and started for the crumbling structure, a piercing scream shattered the glade, and the walls of the rickety dwelling trembled and swayed.
“Sassy,” Grim shouted, rushing for the little house.
The ground heaved, throwing him to his knees. Grim struggled to his feet on the rolling turf, intent on reaching Sassy. He took a staggering step and the cabin exploded with light.
Light poured out of Sassy, gushing in rainbow torrents from her body, eyes, fingertips, and the soles of her feet. It flooded the dim interior of the cabin, streamed through the windows and open door, and shot through the gaps in the walls and the tin roof. The bands at her wrists snapped and the ropes binding Cassandra to the chair slithered to the floor.
Laser beams of light spun around Sassy and Cassandra, forming a shining shield between them and the Hag.
“You think a few moonbeams will stop me?” The Hag raised a skeletal hand, and a ball of black flame appeared. “Don’t make me laugh.”
She threw the smoking ball at Sassy’s shield. It ricocheted off the glowing bands and bounced harmlessly out the door.
The Hag shrieked in fury.
Holding on to the chair for balance, Sassy got to her feet. Her knees knocked and she was trembling. Going supernova took a lot out of a girl.
“Leave,” she told the Hag. “While you still have a chance.”
“Or what, Fairy Fart?” The Hag bared her sharp teeth. “You’ll sparkle me to death?”
Cassandra rose. Her face was twisted with loathing. “You killed Jamie’s babies.”
“Jamie Schmamie. I’ve killed lots of people. So what?”
“I’ll tell you what.” Cassandra’s voice shook. “The name Jamerson Lee McKenna ring any bells?”
