Demon Hunting with a Sexy Ex by Lexi George (3)

“Easy, child. You are safe.” Taking the trembling girl by the arm, Duncan ushered her inside. “Whate’er has overset you can soon be remedied, I promise you.”

His rich voice washed over the young woman and, like magic, she stopped shaking. Cassie observed this effect with a twinge of resentment. He’d always had a way with wild things, able to coax the shyest creatures from the shelter of the woods to lie at his feet. She gave herself a mental shake for being petty. Good Lord, why should she care if Duncan was kind to the girl? No skin off her teeth.

Oh, yeah, there was that. But that was old news. Water under the bridge. She and Duncan were over.

Taking the quaking young woman by the shoulders, Duncan said, “Tell me what has happened to distress you?”

The girl shot a frightened look at Cassie.

“You are quite safe, I promise you.” Duncan released her and stepped back. “This is Cassandra. Unless I am much mistaken, she will stand your friend.” He turned to Cassie. “Will you not?”

“Of course.” Cassie gave the big-eyed waif a reassuring smile. “But, please, call me Cassie. And your name is . . .?”

“Verbena.”

The name rang a bell, but Cassie could not place it.

“What is toward, Verbena?” Duncan asked again.

Verbena gave her wet cheeks an angry swipe. “It’s them Skinners. They been pecking at me for months to come home, but I don’t wanna. They was mean to me. Made me sleep in the yard with the dawgs and fight ’em fer scraps.”

“Renounce the scoundrels and be done, then,” Duncan said. “The Skinners dare not molest you whilst you are under Conall’s protection.”

Conall Dalvahni was a cold, ruthless bastard, and Cassie had disliked him on sight. Much to her surprise, however, her friend Rebekah—Beck to those who knew her well—had fallen in love with the guy.

Cassie shot Duncan a glance. Beck was kith, but Captain Hardass had overcome his aversion to Beck’s demon blood, and the wedding between a demon hunter and a demonoid had been one for the record books.

“Well?” Duncan said when the girl did not answer.

Verbena scuffed the toe of her shoe on the plank floor. “I left. I ain’t working at the restaurant no more.”

“I confess I am surprised by this news,” Duncan said. “I thought you were happy there.”

“I was.” She looked flustered. “Mr. Conall and Beck been good to me. Give me a job and new duds, a-and a place to stay.”

The light bulb went off, and Cassie snapped her fingers. “I know you. You’re Verbena Skinner. You worked at the shifter bar before—”

She faltered, realizing with dismay that she’d just put her foot in her mouth.

“Before that polecat Earl Skinner burnt the place to the ground?” Verbena’s eyes flashed. “You can say it.”

Cassie’s cheeks heated. “Sorry. But I thought—”

“That Earl was my brother and old Charlie Skinner was my dad? Nope, and I’m glad. Charlie tried to have me kilt. Throwed me to the demons for sport, like I was no-count.”

“That’s terrible.” Cassie stared at her in horror. “Why didn’t someone stop him?”

“Who’s gon’ stop Charlie, and him the head of the clan?” Verbena snorted at the suggestion. “Specially since Charlie worked a deal with the demons and them Skinners thought they was gon’ get rich. Nope, they didn’t give a hoot about me.” She pressed her lips together. “Which is Jim Dandy by me, ’cause I ain’t no Skinner. Happens my mama caught a baby from a traveling man. Van Pelt. Verbena Van Pelt—that’s my name now. Took my mama’s name, on account I don’t know my real daddy’s name.”

Cassie couldn’t blame Verbena for not wanting to be associated with the Skinners. White trash, the lot of them, an inbred clan of moonshiners and thieves with a reputation for skullduggery and violence. Only the year before, Charlie Skinner had been murdered. Drowned in his own ’shine after a bad batch of hooch poisoned some of the kith. No one would buy Skinner whiskey after that. Scuttlebutt had it the Skinners had fallen on hard times. Served them right, Cassie decided, for treating the girl so abominably.

“Old Charlie’s dead now,” Verbena continued, as though reading Cassie’s thoughts, “and nobody’s seen hide nor hair of Earl since the day he set fire to the bar. Reckon he lit out afore the sheriff arrested his sorry butt for arson. I hope he stays gone. If I never see him agin, that’ll be a day too soon.”

“No doubt,” Cassie murmured.

She knew what had become of Earl, but she’d keep her mouth shut about it. Earl Skinner had been eaten by a dragon, an honest-to-God, fire-breathing dragon. Hannah was a strange little stewpot of bizarrity, but that was weird, even for around here. Norms didn’t believe in dragons. Didn’t believe in demons or demon hunters, or demonoids, either, for that matter. And a darn good thing, too. In Cassie’s experience, scared norms were dangerous. The dragon and Earl were dead. Best for everyone—particularly the kith—if the norms stayed none the wiser.

“This is all very well,” Duncan said, frowning at Verbena, “but you have yet to explain why you left Conall’s protection.”

Verbena twisted her thin hands. “I seen them Skinners poking around the restaurant. Joby Ray—he’s the head of the family now—said he’d come to fetch me home. Said if I didn’t do what I was tole, he’d cause trouble, so I skedaddled. Hid in the woods a few days and tried to figure what to do. Don’t mind telling you, I was stumped. Got no place to go.” She looked up at Duncan with huge, trusting eyes. “Then I thought of you. Recollected you was kind to me and . . .” Verbena swallowed. “Thought maybe you’d help me.”

“Of course I shall help you, child,” Duncan said at once, “but how did you know where to find me?”

“Oh.” Verbena turned red. “Heard you talking at the restaurant a while back. You told Mr. Conall you was staying on the river to be near—” She shot Cassie a quick glance, her blush deepening. “Anyhoo, knowed right off where you was staying, on account of the dawgs.”

Duncan’s face clouded with puzzlement. “The dogs? I fear I do not follow.”

“It was my job to run Old Charlie’s hunting dawgs, see?” Verbena explained. “If I didn’t run ’em and run ’em good, I’d get walloped. Know these woods like the back of my hand. Knew right off where you was staying when I heered you talking. Found your campsite, but you was gone. Heard a commotion in the woods and came on them fellers what’s building you a house. It’s gon’ be a honey when they’s done, Mr. D. They told me where you was, and here I am.”

Verbena’s matter-of-fact account of her life with the Skinners sickened Cassie. If Charlie were alive, she’d curse him into next week for what he’d done to the poor girl.

“What did the Skinners want with you?” Duncan asked.

“It’s on account o’ my talent, I reckon.” Verbena drew herself up. “They thought I was a dud, but turns out I’m what you call an enhancer.”

A “dud” was the derogatory term used by kith to refer to those of their kind without talent, but Cassie had never heard of an enhancer.

She puzzled over the strange term. “When you say ‘enhancer,’ do you mean you augment the talents of others?”

Verbena wrinkled her nose. “Augment? Whazzat?”

“Increase,” Duncan explained.

“Oh. Well, then, yeah. Leastways, that’s what Toby and Mr. Conall says.”

Tobias Littleton was a cagey old shifter with a nose for magical talent, and Cassie’s oldest friend. She and Toby went way back. He’d been the bouncer and co-owner at Beck’s Bar, a shifter joint that had catered to kith before Earl burned it down.

“If Toby says you’re an enhancer, then you’re an enhancer. But Conall?” Cassie rolled her eyes. “Please. Much he knows about the kith.”

“He must needs know something,” Duncan said. “He is married to one of your kind. From all appearances, he adores his wife.”

Cassie’s throat tightened. Your blood is tainted with evil. I cannot be with you. Those had been Duncan’s words to her.

She lifted her chin. “Guess Conall’s not a judgmental jerk, like some people.”

Verbena’s big eyes widened. “Mr. D, you been a-judging on Miz Cassie?”

“Once and long ago, when I first learned she was a demonoid. I had no notion your race existed, and the discovery . . . Well, suffice it to say, I was disconcerted.”

“Disconcerted?” Cassie gave a bitter laugh. “You said I was an abomination.”

“I was cruel—this I freely admit,” Duncan said. “And I soon came to regret it.” He held out his hands to Verbena. “I have begged the lady’s pardon most humbly. Alas, she cannot forgive me.”

Verbena turned her limpid gaze on Cassie. “How long you been a-holding on to your mad?”

“A while.”

“How long’s a while?”

Mischief danced in Duncan’s eyes. “More than one hundred of your earth years.”

“A hunnert—” Verbena shook her head. “Jehoshaphat, that’s a long time to stay swole up.”

“Indeed it is.” Duncan countered Cassie’s furious glare with a bland look. “A very long time.”

“You gotta stick up, Miz Cassie, it’s plain to see,” Verbena said. “It don’t do to sit on things like a broody hen. Sours your stomach and makes you mean.”

“It has certainly given her the crotchets,” Duncan agreed. “She has been wroth with me lo these many years.”

Cassie decided to ignore this, and turned to address Verbena. “So now Joby Ray realizes you’re an enhancer, he wants you back?”

“’At’s right.” A satisfied little smile played around Verbena’s lips. “Turns out them Skinners ain’t doing so good. Their moonshine b’ness has went bust and most of ’em can’t manage a decent shift no more.” She pressed her lips together. “But I ain’t going back. I ain’t.”

“No, indeed, you shan’t,” Duncan said in his calm, soothing way.

Verbena’s defiance faded. “I’m a big one for talkin’, but you don’t know ’em like I do. They’s mean as a snake-bit dawg, and they got places to hide a body where they won’t never be found. They set the hounds on me this morning. Would’ve caught me, too, but Bo-Bo found me first, and so I knowed they was coming.”

“Bo-Bo?” asked Cassie.

“My dawg,” Verbena said. “He was a mutt, see, like me. Nobody else wanted him, so I raised him from a pup. Had to leave him behind when Old Charlie tried to have me kilt.” Her mouth quivered. “Like to broke my heart to shoo him away, but I knowed if Joby Ray caught me, I’d ’uv been done fer. Them Skinners plan to lock me up and never turn me loose.” She turned her pleading gaze on Duncan. “That’s why I come to you.”

Duncan executed a curt bow. “I am at your service, but what of Hank? I thought the two of you had an understanding.”

“Hank’s gone.” Verbena blinked rapidly and looked away. “Took off a few months back. Said he couldn’t be sure about . . .” She blew out a breath. “Anyways, he’s gone.”

“Hank?” Cassie looked from Duncan to Verbena.

“He was the chef at the restaurant, but he ain’t no more.” Verbena dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. “He was in the papers, see? That food feller from the Mobile Press called Hank a canary artist, or some such mess.”

Cassie suppressed a ripple of mirth. “Do you mean a culinary artist?”

“That a fancy word for cooking?”

“Yes.”

“That’ll be it, then.” Verbena flushed at her mistake. “Hank got real tetchy after he made the paper. Hightailed it lickety-split a few days later.”

“Ah,” Duncan said with a wise nod. “Hank feared your talent as an enhancer had something to do with his success. This bruised his manly pride, so he departed.”

Verbena heaved a sigh. “That’s it, and no bark.”

“I confess I am disappointed in Hank.” Duncan frowned. “I did not think him such a maw worm. Howe’er, that being the case, you are well rid of the dickhead.”

Cassie made a strangled sound. “Duncan Dalvahni, where did you learn such a word?”

“Dickhead? The Dalvahni translator equips us with local vernacular to enable us to assimilate. The term means ‘a stupid or ridiculous person,’ and is most aptly used to refer to a man. Did I not use it correctly?”

“To a T, but I never thought to hear you say it.”

Duncan’s eyes twinkled. “Methinks I am unexpected.”

“Oh, you’re unexpected all right,” Cassie muttered. “Unexpected like a freaking natural disaster.”

Duncan put a hand to his ear. “What was that, my love?”

Cassie scowled. “How many times do I have to tell you? I am not your—”

The crunch of tires on gravel interrupted her. Someone was here. She glanced at the bell on the wall in annoyance. It hadn’t rung. Again. The clapper must be busted.

There was the muffled thud of a vehicle door shutting, followed by the sound of booted feet.

“You in the house,” a man shouted. “Send Beenie out, or we’re coming in.”