by Lexi George
“Coyotes.” Toby shook his head in disgust. “I think I’ll ride in the back with you so I can keep my leg straight.”
He lowered the tailgate and eased in butt first, favoring his injured leg.
“Here.” Beck tossed him the other blanket. “The temperature’s dropping.”
Conall appeared without warning. He held out his hand to Beck. “Come. You will sit inside with me where it is warm.”
It was an order.
He could go suck an egg. She didn’t sign up for his army.
“No, thanks,” she said, trying without much success to match his frigid tone. “I’m staying here.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. It was the first reaction of any sort she’d seen from him since he’d shown up in his Grim Reaper guise.
“If it pleases you,” he said.
Pleased her? Nothing about the past few hours had pleased her, especially his frostbitten attitude. It might be a cold ride in the back of the truck, but it was better than freezing her butt off around the Arctic Alpha Male.
Conall climbed in the cab of the truck and closed the door without another word. He didn’t even slam it. Oh, no, not Mr. Control. You’d get more of a reaction out of a fire plug.
Fine by me, Beck thought as Cassie eased the truck onto the road. Let him ride up front with Cassie. See if I care.
The truck rolled through the tunnel of trees, kicking up a cloud of clay dust. The dry smell of dirt mingled with pine in the night air. The temperature had dropped with nightfall. Beck was cold and miserable, but she’d never admit it.
Images of the past few hours kept cycling through her head like scenes from a horror movie. So much bloodshed and mayhem. So much ugliness. She couldn’t shake a heavy feeling of gloom.
She’d feel better once she got home and had a bath and a cup of tea, and a little kitty cat therapy. Mr. Cat was an excellent listener. She had lots to tell him.
She wiggled, trying to get comfortable. She was exhausted and sore, and the scratches on her face hurt. What if the damage to her arm was permanent? She was worried about the teenagers she’d left behind, and about Hank and Toby. She needed to figure out what to do with Verbena, and she was uneasy about Evan’s sudden disappearance. Her bad mood had nothing to do with Conall.
Toby lifted his nose to the wind, like a dog hanging its head out a car window.
After a moment, he lowered his head and gave Beck a searching look. “Your arm hurt?”
“No, I can’t feel it.”
“Then why are you crying?”
Beck wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m not crying. I never cry.”
“It’s for the best, Becky.” His tone was gentle. “It wouldn’t work. You’re too different. A cat don’t mate with a dog, you know.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Beck said. “I’m not stupid enough to fall for a demon hunter. That would be crazy. I might as well take a nap on the railroad tracks, like Claude Dolan.”
“Glad you’re being sensible. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
She’d known all along there couldn’t be anything between her and Conall. That was a no-brainer.
She heard a low rumbling sound and looked back. The dirt road collapsed in on itself, and Evan rose out of the ground like an angry Poseidon bursting forth from an earthen sea, dirt flowing around him.
“Cookie,” he shouted. He raised his arms; the earth crested and fell around him in giant waves. “This isn’t over.”
Evan brought his arms down, and a deep crack opened in the dirt road and raced toward them. A hailstorm of rocks pinged against the tailgate.
Toby pounded his fist against the side of the truck. “Put the pedal to the metal, Cassie,” he shouted. “We got trouble.”
Beck saw Cassie glance in the rearview mirror. The truck accelerated and they sped away.
Beck brushed the dirt off her jacket with her good hand. “That was close.”
“Too close.” Toby tucked the blanket around his legs. “You’re going to have to do something about that brother of yours.”
“What would you suggest?”
“Reckon that depends,” Toby said. “He’s running with them demons, ain’t he?”
“Yes.”
“You thinking of joining him?”
“Tobias Littleton. You know better.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I went MIA on you, and I needed to know.” Toby tugged on his braid. “If you’re going against them demons and your brother, you’re gonna need help. I’ll say one thing for our new bartender, he’s a handy feller in a fight.”
Handy was an understatement. Conall was death walking. He’d kill Evan.
“I’ll handle Evan,” she said. “I’ll talk to him. Try and convince him to leave.”
Toby snorted. “Not likely. Not as long as you got something he wants.”
He was right. Evan wasn’t going anywhere without Haggy.
“He’s not going to change, baby girl,” Toby said. “He is what he is, and there’s no turning back.”
“You talking about Conall or Evan?”
Toby closed his eyes. “Yep.”
Chapter Twenty-two
After what seemed like a small forever, they left the woods and turned onto the paved, two-lane county road. They were a few miles outside Hannah when the blue lights came on.
Toby squinted at the Jeep Cherokee behind them. “Sheriff,” he said with a grunt. “There ain’t no end to this frigging day.”
Beck’s sentiments, exactly.
There was no emergency lane, so Cassie pulled onto the grass on the side of the road and rolled down her window. The coyotes and Toby exchanged a silent look of communication. The coyotes jumped out of the truck and vanished into the darkness, as silent as ghosts.
A tall, lean man wearing a sheriff ’s badge exited the Jeep and approached the driver’s side window.
“Evening, ma’am,” he said to Cassie. “You’ve got a broken tail-light.”
“Really?” Cassie said. “I must have hit something on the road.”
More like the road hit them, Beck thought, remembering the shower of earth and rocks from Evan’s little temper tantrum.
The sheriff scribbled something down and handed Cassie a piece of paper.
“I’m issuing you a warning,” he said. “But you need to get that tail-light fixed.”
“Sure thing, Sheriff.”
He walked back and shined his flashlight in the bed of the truck. Toby stiffened and his nostrils flared. Something about the sheriff had sure gotten his attention.
The flashing lights on top of the patrol car cast the officer’s face in relief. He was a handsome man, with a strong jaw and a firm-lipped mouth. Stubborn, more like it.
His eyes were shaded beneath the brim of his hat, but Beck got the impression he didn’t miss much.
The beam of light came to rest on the bear’s furry body. Hank lifted his head and growled.
“Shh,” Verbena said, stroking him. “It’s all right.”
To Beck’s amazement, Hank quieted back down. Verbena had a way with animals, or at least a way with one bear of a cook.
“It’s against the law in Alabama to trap a black bear,” the sheriff said.
“We didn’t trap him,” Beck said. “Some idiot shot him.”
Beck winced as the sheriff moved the beam of light to her face. She could swear the sheriff’s nose twitched.
“You a vet?” he asked.
“No, but—”
“My brother is learned in the care and healing of wild creatures,” Conall said. “We are taking the animal to him.”
Beck blinked in surprise. Conall had done the demon hunter thing, exiting the truck and moving to her side, swift and silent.
“That right?” the sheriff drawled. He pulled the pad back out of his pocket. “What’s your name?”
Most cops would have been startled, to say the least, by Conall’s now you see me–now you don’t routine, but
the sheriff didn’t seem the least bit rattled.
“I am Dalvahni.”
“Dalvahni?” The sheriff looked up. “Any relation to an Ansgar Dalvahni?”
Conall inclined his head. “He is my brother. You know him?”
“We’ve met.” The notepad went back in the sheriff’s pocket. “You folks been anywhere near the Peterson hunting preserve tonight?”
Cassie stuck her head out the window. “We were on Peterson land, but we had an invitation. Is there a problem?”
“One of my deputies got a call that a truck had run into a ditch near Musso,” he said. “When he got there, he found two teenagers in the vehicle. They were pie faced and ranting about monsters at some fancy lodge. The description of the place sounded like the Petersons’ hunting place.”
Beck did a mental fist pump. The kids were safe; one less thing to worry about.
“Where are they now?” she asked.
She felt the sheriff’s gaze on her and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. There was an air of intensity about this man that made her uneasy.
“On their way to the hospital in Paulsberg to be treated for alcohol poisoning,” he said. “I’d sure like to know who got a couple of underage kids that liquored up. Don’t suppose you know anything about it?”
“Nope,” Beck lied. “Can’t help you.”
The sheriff’s nose twitched again. “I see.” He turned to go and looked back. “You can tell those coyotes to quit skulking around and get back in the truck. I’m leaving now.”
He climbed back in the Jeep and drove off. Verbena got up without a word and lowered the tailgate. The coyotes slunk out of the darkness and sprang back into the truck. Verbena closed the tailgate and climbed back in.
“If you’re afraid of wolves, stay out of the woods,” Toby said as the truck bounced back onto the road.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Beck asked.
“It means that sheriff ain’t no dummy.”
No, he wasn’t. He’d known about the coyotes, and she had a hunch he knew she hadn’t told him the truth.
It was almost like the sheriff could smell a lie.
They made it back to the bar without further incident. The parking lot was empty except for a black and red truck with BEELZEBUBBA emblazoned down the sides, but the place was lit up like a Christmas tree.
“What’s with all the lights?” Beck said. “It’s Sunday. The bar’s closed.”
She hoisted herself to her feet. Oh, goody. She wasn’t going to have to wait until tomorrow to be sore. The long ride in the cold night air had made her muscles stiff. She couldn’t wait to get home and soak in the tub.
She took a deep breath, drawing the mossy scent of the river into her lungs. It was good to be out of those woods and back on her turf.
Cassie opened her door and got out. “Someone’s playing a piano. Whoever they are, they’re good.”
Conall moved to the back of the truck in a blur of motion.
“I grew weary of the shade’s incessant whining,” he said. He crossed his arms and looked up at Beck, his expression as cold and hard as her marbleized arm. “So, I purchased a noisemaker. It would appear the instrument was delivered.”
“Where’d you find a piano on a Sunday?” Beck said. “The nearest music store’s in Mobile.”
“I struck a bargain with the priest at the shade’s former haunt.”
“You talked Father Ben into selling you the piano at the Episcopal church?”
Conall shrugged. “I made it worth his while.”
Beck felt a flutter of alarm. No telling what he paid for that piano. She’d have to reimburse him. “How much?”
“I do not recall the exact sum. Money is of no moment to the Dalvahni.”
Money is of no moment to the Dalvahni. Well, it was damn sure “of moment” to most folks, including her. She and Toby had a business to run, and buying pianos for dispossessed ghosts wasn’t in their budget.
Conall studied the latch on the tailgate a moment and then lowered it. The coyotes leaped out and trotted over to the black and red truck. Beck caught a flash of four naked butts as they shifted and jumped in their vehicle.
Sam rolled down the passenger window and held his thumb and little finger to his ear. “Call me and let me know how Hank’s doing.”
Beck waved good-bye. “Will do.”
Toby scooted across the tailgate. Beck jumped off the truck and planted herself in front of him.
“Hold it right there, old man,” she said. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home.”
“Think again. You’ve got a bullet in you. I’m taking you to Doc Dunn.”
“No, you ain’t. Take your own self to the doctor and see about that arm. I ain’t tangled with no demon.”
“What is this?” Conall said. “You fought one of the djegrali?” Ignoring her protests, he pushed up the left sleeve of her jacket. She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Rebekah, what have you done?”
She looked down. Cassie had parked under a light pole, and visibility was good. Her arm and hand were fish-belly white and hard as concrete. The fingers of her left hand were curled into a fist. Her stomach did a slow roll. She was maimed, probably for good.
She shook off the awful thought. No, she wouldn’t think about that now. She’d do a Scarlett O’Hara and worry about it later.
“I am taking you home,” Conall said in a tone without compromise.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Beck tugged her sleeve back in place. “Not until I make sure Toby and Hank are okay.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” Toby lowered his good leg to the ground and stood. “See?”
Cassie joined them at the rear of the truck. “Tell you what, Beck. I’ll drop Toby off at Doc Dunn’s house on my way home. I’ll check on Dooley and then swing back by and pick him up. I’ll call you and let you know what the doc says.”
Toby waved his arms around. “Toby’s right here. He ain’t deaf and he ain’t going to no dadflabbed doctor.”
“You’re going, Tobias Littleton, and that’s it,” Beck said. “You’ve got a bullet in your leg.”
“It’ll work its way out.”
“You could get an infection.”
“You go, then, if you’re so all fired set on going to a doctor. You need it worse than me.”
“Be sensible, Toby,” Beck said. “I can’t go to the doctor with a petrified arm. How will I explain it to Doc?”
“Tell the old coot to mind his own business.”
“Enough.” Conall picked up Toby and deposited him in the cab of the truck. “You will go to the leech and then you will let Rebekah know what he says. Understood?”
“Now see here—” Toby sputtered.
Conall put his hand on the open passenger door. A thick sheet of ice formed on the window and coated the metal frame. “Understood?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Toby said. “No need to freeze my gonads off.”
“What about Hank?” Verbena asked as Conall closed the truck door and strode past her. “He’s hurt real bad.”
“My brother will see to the bear. He is here now.” Conall turned and stared into the inky woods surrounding the bar. “Well met, Duncan.”
Cassie made a choked sound. “Duncan?”
She scrambled back inside the truck and slammed the door. Beck caught a brief glimpse of Cassie’s blond hair through the windshield before she ducked.
Beck was still puzzling over this odd behavior when a tall, broad-shouldered man melted out of the darkness. His shoulder-length hair was somewhere between blond and brown—hard to tell the exact shade in the dim light. In spite of his size, he moved with a stealthy grace, treading over the gravel in his booted feet without a sound. A form-fitting long-sleeve shirt clung to his taut torso and arms, and tobacco-brown breeches molded to his powerful thighs. Strapped across his wide chest was a leather and metal vest. He carried a sword on one hip.
The sheer size and masc
uline beauty of the stranger screamed Dalvahni. So did his solemn, unyielding expression. Jeez, was the entire Dalvahni race emotionally constipated?
“You sent for me, Captain?” he asked in a colorless voice.
Yep. Roger that. A truckload of Ex-Lax wouldn’t loosen these guys up.
Conall pointed to the truck. “There is a wounded creature in yon carriage that needs your help.”
In the blink of an eye, Duncan was kneeling beside the injured bear. Hank bawled and thrashed about in alarm.
Beck felt a subtle push of power, and then Duncan spoke. His deep voice was soothing, like a warm, healing balm.
“Easy, little brother,” he said. “I mean you no harm.”
Hank grunted and went limp.
“Wow.” Verbena’s thin face split in a goofy grin. Doctor Feelgood had whammied her, too. “Everything’s all sparkly. Say something else.”
Duncan examined the bear with gentle but practiced efficiency. “The shot went through the shoulder and entered the lung. I can save him, but he has lost much blood and the wound has festered. It will take time to heal. Have you a cage or stall to keep him in whilst he heals?”
“There’s a room in the back of the bar with a bed and a small bathroom,” Beck volunteered. “He can stay there until he’s well.”
Conall put his hand on Beck’s shoulder. Cold spread from his palm and through her jacket, making her shiver. Holy smokes, he was running at subzero.
“Brother, this is Rebekah Damian,” he said. “The tavern belongs to her and her partner. Yon bear is her cook.”
“She has ensorcelled the creature to do her bidding like the Witch of Blandor?”
“Nay, the bear is a shifter,” Conall said. “He was in his animal state when shot. No human leech would treat him. That is why I summoned you.”
“Ah,” Duncan said with a knowing nod. “He is kith.”
“How do you know this?” Conall asked sharply. “I myself learned of the kith’s existence but a few months past.”
“’Tis not my first trip to this realm.” Duncan got to his feet in a fluid movement, his face without expression. “I am sure I mentioned the demonoids in my report. Perhaps you overlooked it. The djegrali were causing much mischief in Tartolla at the time, as I recall. No doubt you were absorbed with weightier matters.”
