A Demonic Bundle (27 page)

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Authors: Lexi George Kathy Love,Angie Fox

BOOK: A Demonic Bundle
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Chapter Fifteen
R
afe struggled to his feet. The sand had come alive.
Dozens of sand people surrounded them. Tall and cylindrical, the sand people had long, mournful faces and slack, hollow mouths. They watched the two warriors with empty eyes. Two sand dogs frolicked at their feet. At the edge of the crowd of silent, unmoving figures, a sand kitten washed its face with a gritty paw.
“We have a problem,” Brand said in a low voice. “Our weapons are gone. Almost of a certainty our grainy friends have them.”
“That is a problem. Perhaps we should leave.”
“Not without my sword.”
“I thought you might say that.” Rafe sighed. Brand’s fondness for his sword Uriel was well-known among the Dalvahni. “Very well, we will demand the return of our weapons. If they do not comply, we destroy them.”
Brand seemed to consider this. “That might work. Or we could try asking them nicely.”
“I did not think of that.”
Brand shrugged. “Adara’s influence. I have mellowed.”
“Since you are feeling so congenial, you ask them.”
“As you wish.” Brand cleared his throat. “Greetings . . . er . . . quarry people. My brother and I apologize for trespassing upon your domain. I assure you, we did so out of ignorance and without malicious intent, for we knew not of your existence. Return our weapons and we will depart in peace.” He paused. “Thwart us, however, and we will unleash the fury of the Dalvahni and scatter you to the four winds.”
“Very nice and conciliatory,” Rafe murmured. “Except for the last part.”
“A warrior only mellows so much.”
Rafe rubbed his aching ribs. “So I noticed.”
Two of the sand people shuffled forward, the weapons in their upraised hands. Rafe and Brand approached them. The sand creatures stared straight ahead, as unmoving as statues, offering no resistance when the two warriors retrieved their weapons.
“See,” Brand said as the two creatures lumbered back into the crowd. “Diplomacy works.”
Shoulder to shoulder, Rafe and Brand strode toward the entrance of the quarry escorted by their shambling guard. The company of sand people parted ranks. Rafe and Brand walked between the silent rows and through the gate. They reached the road and looked back. The quarry was empty, except for the sigh of the wind through the dunes.
Night settled around them. Not far away, Rafe heard the rushing sound of the river. An owl hooted in a nearby tree and a chorus of frogs started a new song. A light breeze played through the air. He took a deep breath. His nose had healed. He smelled pine, grass and the earthy scent of the mud along the riverbank. The paved road beneath his feet still held the heat of the day.
“Strange forces are at work in this place,” Rafe said, breaking the silence. “I have been thinking of asking for permanent assignment here.”
“Why?”
Rafe gave the other warrior an incredulous stare. “Because it is my duty.”
“Ah, we are back to that again. You know, you really are a tedious fellow.”
“Meaning?”
“Only that your desire to stay here should have something to do with your wife.”
Rafe stiffened. “I consider protecting Bunny part of my duty.”
“If that is your primary reason for staying here, tarry no longer.” Brand turned and walked down the dark road. “I feel certain Conall will assign another of our rank to protect her.”
Once more, Rafe had a vision of Bunny in another man’s arms. She was so sweet and beautiful, so giving. How could any red-blooded male resist her? If he left, how long would it be before another warrior lost himself in her embrace as he had?
No, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t lost himself in Bunny’s arms. He’d found himself. With her, he was home at last, after a hundred lifetimes of wandering.
He caught up with Brand in two strides and spun him around.
“Bunny is mine,” he snarled. “No one else’s, do you hear?”
“Your dog-in-manger attitude is beginning to annoy me.” Brand shook his head. “Let her go if you do not love her. It is the honorable thing to do.”
The world tilted and dropped away beneath Rafe’s feet. He was falling, falling, into nothing. Let Bunny go? And do what? Wander through the dark, lonely reaches of time without her, caught in the endless pursuit of the djegrali?
“No, I cannot,” he said.
“Why?”
Rafe stared at him, helpless to put his feelings into words. His
feelings
? Damnation.
“She is with child,” he blurted.
“A child?” Brand whistled. “You are sure?”
Rafe sent a rock flying down the road with a vicious kick of his boot. “Yes. She told me tonight.”
“This is momentous news indeed. It also explains a multitude of things, including the fire you started in that tavern.”
“I did not—” Rafe stopped. He clenched his fists. Had he? He remembered being in the bar and the burning rage that had consumed him. The terrible anger spilled out of him and the walls and ceiling went up in flames. “You are right,” he said in dawning self-disgust. “I started that fire. I was filled with a fury greater than any I remember. I could not control it.”
“Do not chastise yourself too severely. Certain females can have that effect upon a warrior.” Brand’s expression grew rueful. “As I know only too well.”
“A warrior should always be in control. I was not.” The bitter words choked Rafe. With an effort, he continued. “In truth, I do not think I have been in control since I met Bunny.” He straightened his shoulders and looked Brand in the eye. “I have violated our creed. My transgressions are unpardonable. You should report me to Conall.”
“Tell him yourself if it gives you ease. I will not.”
“But duty compels you to—”
Brand held up his hand. “Please, no lectures. I have lived the Dalvahni way as long as you. I am familiar with our code. For years beyond counting I have pursued the djegrali. It was all I knew until I met Adara. But now that I have found her, I will not go back to the half-life of my former existence. I cannot. I have something far better than the emptiness and the endless hunt, something infinitely more precious. I have Adara. And I will fight to protect her and those she loves from any and all danger, including the djegrali, so long as I have an ounce of strength in my warrior’s body. I recommend you do the same.”
“But . . . but the child. I have no notion how be a father!”
“You will learn. We Dalvahni are nothing if not resourceful.” Brand slapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, brother. To my knowledge, you are the first of our kind to sire a child. But do not, for a moment, imagine I will allow you to best me for long.” He grinned. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to find Adara. We have some catching up to do.”
Brand vanished, leaving Rafe alone on the road. A moment later, he reappeared.
“Here, it is called chocolate.” Brand thrust a small, crinkly package into Rafe’s hands. “Consume it wisely and not all at once.” He grinned. “As Adara would say, it will rock your world.”
He was gone.
Rafe turned the package over in his hands. The narrow box was wrapped in brown, glossy paper. The words
Hershey’s Milk Chocolate
were written in silver letters across the front. He tore it open. There were six flat, individually wrapped objects in the pack. Rafe took one out and tore off the covering. A delicious, rich scent wafted up his nose.
He took a large bite of the chocolate and chewed. It was slightly crunchy and sweet but otherwise unremarkable. Then the chocolate melted on his tongue and a strange, warm feeling came over him. He had never felt anything like it. He took another bite. The warm feeling spread.
He liked chocolate. Chocolate was good.
 
Rafe lounged with his back against the tree, his legs stretched out on the ground in front of him. His whole body felt heavy. With an effort, he lifted one booted foot and crossed it over the other. His feet seemed miles away. He was singing Coop’s favorite song, the one about the “dawgs” and the man on the table. He wanted to know why the man was on the table. Coop would know. He must remember to ask him.
He sang the first verse over and over. It was the only one he knew.
The fairies did not like it. They buzzed in agitation around him, beautiful, multicolored blobs of floating light that chattered without ceasing. He could hear the steady drone of their high pitched voices above his singing. A brilliant green one darted close to hover at the end of his nose on gossamer wings. He stopped singing and crossed his eyes. “It” was a she. Her large eyes were dark teardrops in her pointed face. Long, wispy hair the color of new leaves swirled around her naked breasts.
“Pretty,” he said with a silly grin. He tried to touch the fairy with the tip of his finger, but she darted away. “Ah, little one, I mean you no harm.”
He held out his hand. She left the swarm of fairies that drifted around him to settle on his palm. Tilting her dainty head, she said something to him in a thin voice.
“Sorry,” he said. “I cannot understand you.”
He reached for a chocolate bar with his free hand. The package was empty.
“Someone ate all the chocolate.” He shifted his bleary gaze to the fairy. “Was it you?”
The fairy shook her head.
“Next I suppose you will be saying it was me.”
The fairy chittered.
“You can say that again,” Rafe said. “May I tell you a secret?”
The fairy’s wings slowly opened and closed.
“I will take that as a ‘yes.’ ” He leaned closer. “I love Bunny. There, I said it. It terrifies me, these feelings I have for her, but I can deny them no longer.” He glanced to his right and left. “I will tell you something else. I am going to have a baby.” He thought about that one. “Well, actually Bunny is going to have a baby, but
I
am the father. That terrifies me, too. I do not know
how
to be a father.”
He leaned his head against the tree and burst once more into song. With a tinkling huff of protest, the fairy took to the air. She pointed her finger at him. A cloud of green, sparkly dust smacked him between the eyes. Suddenly, he was very drowsy. He yawned and fell asleep.
Chapter Sixteen
R
afe woke up underneath a tree. He felt awful. His head hurt and there was a bad taste in his mouth. What ailed him? The Dalvahni did not know sickness. He lifted his head and looked around. He instantly regretted it, for the slightest movement made his temples throb. Bits of wadded up brown paper and silver wrappers lay scattered on the ground.
The chocolate, he had eaten all the chocolate. And, by the sword, it made him drunk!
He picked up an empty wrapper and stared at it. Through the years, he’d seen many different species under the influence of various substances, but the Dal were immune to alcohol and drugs of every kind. Except for chocolate, it seemed.
He had a vague recollection of eating one of the bars and liking the loose, heady feeling it gave him. He’d never felt that way before. He had thought about Bunny and the baby and ate some more chocolate. It had seemed a good idea at the time.
Walking in the woods had seemed like a good idea, too. After a while he got tired of walking and sat under an old oak. He did not recall finishing the pack of chocolate bars, but he must have done so. The evidence was all around him.
He sat up. His stomach roiled and his head ached like the very devil. So this was what a hangover felt like. He could not say he enjoyed the sensation or cared to repeat it.
He ran his tongue across his teeth. A bath was in order. Somewhere nearby, he heard the burble of running water. He followed the sound and found a creek. He stripped off his leathers and waded in.
The water was cold and he made quick work of washing himself. As he dried off in a patch of sunshine, his thoughts drifted back to the night before. He dimly recalled singing. He winced. His singing was painful. He sounded like a lovesick elk. The fairies must have thought so too. Especially the little green one, because she’d—
Rafe went still, remembering the puff of fairy dust and the dream that followed.
More like a vision than a dream, dozens of happy images of the future. His future with Bunny and their child.
A son, the babe Bunny carried was a son, tall and red-haired and strong like Rafe, with Bunny’s amazing teal eyes and wide smile and loving nature. They would name him John Bryant, after Bunny’s father, and Rafe would teach him to be strong and brave and honorable. And Bunny would teach their child how to love, just as she’d taught him the meaning of that word.
And that was the most important lesson of all.
He needed to see Bunny. He needed to tell her he loved her. Brand was right. He was a coward.
But no longer. It was going to be all right. He could do this. He could.
He needed to tell her.
 
Bunny checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror. She looked okay. In fact, she looked great. Nothing at all like someone who’d spent the night pacing the floor and crying her eyes out. No puffy eyes or swollen red nose. No sign of fatigue. That Dalvahni DNA was strong stuff.
Too bad it didn’t work on her broken heart.
She was afraid this would happen. She’d told herself to be ready for it. But it still hurt like hell when Rafe disappeared. Turned out, nothing could prepare her for having her heart ripped out. She had been so sure he loved her. And maybe he did. But, he was incapable of admitting it. The baby was the final straw. She would never forget the look on his face when she told him or the gut-wrenching pain she felt when he left.
Just like that. No good-bye. No see yah later, chicka, and thanks for the lay.
Gone.
She’d told her parents she didn’t feel well and got Coop to drive her home. She stayed up all night waiting for him. He didn’t come back. She was an idiot to keep hoping.
She washed and dried her hands and went back into the library. The Fall Art Show was a smashing success. There was a line outside on the sidewalk when she unlocked the doors early that morning. It was mid-afternoon and the crowd was finally dwindling.
Mid-afternoon without a word from Rafe.
Pfft,
he was gone and it was over.
She was thankful to have the bustle of the art show to keep her busy. Local artist Amasa Collier sold several of his coat hanger sculptures, including a startlingly realistic likeness of country great Hank Williams. There were dozens of canvases on display and for sale and some wonderful photographs done by the photography class at Hannah High, as well as pottery, hand woven wisteria baskets, blown glass and handmade quilts. Bunny had her eye on a magnificent oil of the Devil River. The river came alive under the artist’s brush. He or she—the painting was unsigned except for a small ‘S’ in one corner—had captured the mystery and allure of the water. When she looked at that painting, she felt as though she could walk right in the river and into another world.
Unfortunately, the mystery artist wanted way more for the painting than she could afford on her meager salary, especially with a baby on the way.
Swallowing a lump of sadness at the thought of raising the baby without Rafe, Bunny surveyed the library from behind the reception desk. Twenty or so people still lingered at the tables and easels that lined the library windows, and a few more wandered around in the stacks. In a few minutes, she would shoo everybody out and close the doors. And then she would go home and begin the rest of her life without Rafe.
Oh, God, how would she bear it?
The door opened and Audrey came in. She gave Bunny a little wave and hurried up to the front counter.
“Your mama told me and Cooper the good news about the baby,” she said, smiling. Audrey always called Coop by his full name. It was
Cooper
this and
Cooper
that. Usually, Bunny thought it was endearing. But for some reason today it got on her nerves. “You left in such a hurry last night. I was worried about you.” Audrey’s eyes widened. Leaning forward, she whispered, “Your mama said Rafe went AWOL when he found out about the baby. Is everything okay?”
No, everything was not okay. Everything was about as
not
okay as it could get. For one thing, Bunny had a heck of a time last night explaining Rafe’s little vanishing act to her mother. She’d finally convinced Mama she might be getting a migraine. Mama saw visual auras right before the onset of a headache. The lie had worked, but it had been a close one. Mama was no dummy.
For another, her husband of less than a week had left her. She’d gotten a big fat “F” in Marriage 101, and there would be no making it up in another term. School was over. Her marriage had been canceled because her husband had the commitment and intimacy issues of a typical male. Times a squillion.
But she wasn’t about to tell Audrey that. Audrey would be devastated for her and she would try and sympathize. And Bunny couldn’t take it. Not right now. Not when the pain was so raw.
So, she smiled and lied. Again. “Everything’s fine. I want to thank you for letting us borrow the Caddy. Rafe would never have fit into my Mini Cooper.”
Audrey giggled. “No, he wouldn’t.” She looked around. “So, where is Rafe? Is he here?”
Bunny was saved from another lie by the unexpected arrival of Mullet Woman. Nicole came through the front door dressed in black shorts, a white see-through bathing suit cover, and an oh-so-visible black bra. She carried a large, covered canvas in her hands.
“Read about the art show in the
Herald.
” She plunked the canvas on the counter. “Just got off my shift. Am I too late?”
“I’m sorry, Nicole, but the art show is over,” Bunny said.
“I was just about to close the library. But if you give me your name and address, I’ll put you on the mailing list for next year. I’m sure your artwork is lovely.”
“Huh.” Nicole looked crestfallen. “Since I brung it all this way, you wanna see it? I’d kinda like your opinion.”
Bunny cut her eyes at Audrey. Her sister-in-law was staring at Nicole’s train wreck of a hair-do with thinly veiled horror.
“Uh, sure,” Bunny said.
Nicole turned the canvas over and slid her fingernail under the masking tape. What was hidden beneath that butcher paper? A black velvet Elvis? The Last Supper done in elbow macaroni?
Nicole unwrapped the canvas and turned it over. Bunny and Audrey gasped. It was a portrait of Jesus, the most tender, moving likeness of Christ that Bunny had ever seen.
Also the most odiferous.
“Whew!” Audrey waved her hands in the air. “What is that awful smell?”
“Cigarettes,” Nicole said. “I made it out of butts I picked up around the gas station. You wouldn’t believe how many morons pump gas while smoking a cig.” She lifted her thick shoulders. “It seemed like the Earth-friendly thing to do.”
“A stinky Jesus.” Audrey was frowning. “You made a stinky Jesus. You can’t make our Lord and Savior out of cigarette butts. It’s not respectful.”
“I like it,” Bunny announced. “In fact, I
love
it. I want to buy it.” She looked at Nicole. “That is, if I can afford it and if it’s for sale.”
Nicole flushed. “It’s yours.” She handed the canvas over the counter to Bunny. “Consider it a wedding present.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” Bunny tried to give the picture back. “It’s too beautiful. You must let me pay you for it. Better yet, take it to an art gallery in Mobile.”
“Nope, I want you to have it. Besides, there’s plenty more butts where them came from.” Nicole leveled her piggy eyes at Audrey. “That your pink Cadillac out front?”
Audrey gave Nicole a wall-eyed stare. Bunny could tell Mullet Woman made Audrey nervous. “Yes,” Audrey said. “Why do you ask?”
“Thought it might be. You sell Mary Kay?”
At once, Audrey morphed into the consummate professional. She straightened her shoulders and pasted a bright smile on her face. “I do.”
“Huh,” Nicole said. “You got yourself a problem then. My aunt used to sell Mary Kay and that there car of yours ain’t the right color pink.”
Audrey looked like somebody had sucked all of the air out of the room. “What are you talking about?
“Your car is carnation,” Nicole told her. “Whereas your Mary Kay is more of a porcelain pink.”
“My, would you look at the time?” Bunny said loudly. “I think I’ll close up now.”
She bustled around the room rounding up people and ushering them out of the library. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nicole and Audrey walk out together. They were still talking.
Bunny said good-bye to her library aide, Betsy, and escorted an effusively flirtatious Horace Clement out the door. Good grief, the man was eighty years old if he was a day, and he was coming on to her like crazy. What good was all this sex appeal when the only man she wanted was Rafe?
She checked the library one more time and locked up and dimmed the lights. As she came out of the stacks, she glanced out the bank of windows and saw Nicole and Audrey standing on the curb.
She walked to the front door and looked out. Nicole was pointing to the Mary Kay car. Audrey looked upset. Bunny felt guilty. Audrey loved that stupid car. It was important to her, a symbol of all her hard work. And now it was ruined.
Okay, maybe ruined was a little bit of an exaggeration, but it was definitely the wrong color. And in the world of Mary Kay, the right pink was everything.
Bunny felt responsible. But what could she do, tell Audrey the truth?
Uh, sorry, babe, I got in a throw down with this demon and tore up your car. But my husband—remember him, the supernatural hottie who hung around until after the honeymoon? —made it all better. Unfortunately, he only has one pink in his color palette, and it ain’t Mary Kay.
Oh, yeah, that would fix everything. As if.
Shaking her head, Bunny walked over to the reception desk and got her purse out of the drawer. The monitor caught her eye.
Here there be dragons
her screensaver said. Her computer was still on.
That’s right,
she thought.
I asked Betsy to delete those old books from the inventory this morning.
She reached over to turn off the computer.
That’s when the demon attacked.

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