Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb Read Free Page B

bath and a change of clothes would remedy both. The bruise to his pride, however, would linger. His preoccupation with the female had made him careless. The knowledge stung more sharply than the pull of his rapidly healing flesh. Such a thing had not happened to him before.
    Thank Kehv no one had witnessed his folly.
    â€œA curious ploy, brother, albeit effective,” a deep voice said, “but surely there is a more efficient . . . and less painful way to trap the djegrali than offering oneself as a meal?”
    Grim opened his eyes. A Dalvahni warrior gazed down at him without expression.
    So much for his dignity.
    He got to his feet.
    â€œWell met, Duncan.” Grim retrieved his sword from the ground and slid it back in the scabbard. “What brings you here?”
    â€œI came in search of cramp bark and valerian to treat an ailing mare. I sensed the fiend’s presence and sought to dispatch it.” Amusement twinkled in Duncan’s light brown eyes. “But you had done the deed with aplomb.”
    Grim shifted in discomfort. He found Duncan’s propensity for mirth irksome. The Dal were known for many things, but humor was not among them.
    â€œI have been trailing the creature for some time,” he said. “The hunt led me here.”
    Duncan’s expression sharpened. “You followed it through a portal?”
    â€œHow else?”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œNot far from here. There is a yellow covered wagon, large with many windows. It lies abandoned and rusting in a field overgrown. Know you it?”
    â€œI cannot be certain, but the wagon you describe could be a school bus, a conveyance the locals use to carry their children to and from a place of learning. Abandoned, you say?”
    Grim nodded. “Yes, and other artifacts besides. The field seems to be a repository for discarded items.”
    â€œIt sounds like a junkyard.” Duncan appeared troubled. “Conall will wish to hear your account at once. He thought he had closed the portal to Hannah.”
    â€œHannah is the name of this place?”
    â€œYes. The Provider should have told you as much.”
    Grim shrugged. “In truth, I did not ask. One place is much as another.”
    â€œHannah, you will find, is unique.”
    â€œAs you say,” Grim said without interest. He had long since stopped keeping track of the places duty took him. He seldom tarried in one place. His purpose was to hunt and kill the djegrali.
    He surveyed the other warrior, taking note of his fitted tunic and sturdy trousers. “You have assimilated. The hunting in this realm is good?”
    He wears something called a tee shirt, a woven tube of fabric without side seams, boasting either short or long sleeves , the Provider said without being asked. His breeches are called jeans, fashioned from a tough material known as cotton twill, also called denim. Like tee shirts, jeans are favored by males and females alike in this clime. Interestingly enough—
    Grim gritted his teeth and clamped down on the unsolicited flow of internal chatter. By the gods, his sustained solitude had allowed the Provider too much license.
    â€œThe hunting here is excellent,” Duncan said. “And you? The last I heard, you were in the mountains of Zinarr. Your absence was noted at the wedding.”
    â€œWhat wedding?”
    â€œConall’s. He married this past moon.”
    Grim stared at him, thunderstruck. “Some trick of the djegrali has disordered your mind. The Dal do not marry.”
    â€œThat is no longer the case.”
    Grim made a sound of disgust and turned his back on the other warrior. Faster than thought, Duncan darted in front of him.
    â€œThere is a sign at the outskirts of this town.” Duncan’s expression was strangely intent. “A metal placard that reads ‘Hannah, Ala.’ Han-nah-a-lah. Think on it, Grimford . ”
    â€œThe end of all things?” Grim shouldered past him.