Dancing With Demons (Demon Hunter in Hiding Book 2) by Trudi Jaye

Author:Trudi Jaye [Jaye, Trudi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Star Media Ltd
Published: 2020-07-09T16:00:00+00:00

24

“Come back anytime. I’ll help where I can,” says Freddy, his charisma not in the least dimmed by being outside in the sunlight. We’re standing on the front steps of the country club, and he looks like he’s the king of his world. Perhaps he is.

“Thanks,” says Blade, shaking his hand. “I just might take you up on that.”

I nod at Freddy and give a wave, not sure that I can make it back to where he is for the handshake. I’m swaying a little, and the whole world is looking a little twirly-wurly.

I blame the Strawberry Betty.

“It was a delight to meet you, Hazel,” says Freddy with an amused smile. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

The words seem slightly ominous, and I give him a wavering smile. I’m about to place a wobbly foot on the first step down toward the parking lot when Blade takes my arm. “You’re drunk,” he says, his voice a mix between grim and amused.

“I do believe I am,” I say, aiming for haughty. Given that I’m pretty sure I’m slurring, it probably didn’t work. Blade is nice and warm, so I snuggle up to him as he walks me down the steps. I trip over my own feet a couple of times, and if he wasn’t there to hold me steady, I would’ve landed on my face. All I can smell is strawberries, and Blade’s unique scent of cedar, citrus and magic.

We get to the bottom of the stairs, and I glance back up at Freddy. He’s standing at the top, his expression taut, his eyes back to being bottomless pools of darkness. He looks strange and otherworldly, and suddenly I can see why he’s the voodoo king.

I shiver. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?” I ask Blade.

“Freddy? I think he’s giving us one version of the truth. He’s got more layers than an onion, and he’s juggling more balls than a circus clown.”

“I hope it wasn’t a mistake to mention the existence of a chalice to him,” I say, chewing on my lip. “He did promise to keep it between us.”

“I’m sure he’ll do that for as long as it’s practical,” Blade says.

“So maybe five minutes?” I mutter, wishing we’d never said anything to him. I’m starting to realize that the fewer people who know about me, the better. My stomach feels like it’s trying to take up a new career as a washing machine on spin cycle, and the world is looking a little less bright. It’s only my connection to Blade’s warmth that keeps me taking steps forward.

He half carries me back to the truck and then helps me up into the cab, although I manage to stop him from doing up my seatbelt. “I can do it,” I insist, the words coming out heavy, like I’m speaking through cotton wool. But I’m still trying to put the seat belt into the annoyingly pesky clip when he gets in the other side and puts his own seat belt in.

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