Personal Demons: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (Sword & Sassery Book 3) by Phoebe Ravencraft

Author:Phoebe Ravencraft [Ravencraft, Phoebe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-20T16:00:00+00:00

Nine

Devlin and I walked towards town as the sun set the horizon ablaze. With no buildings in the way, you could see halfway to the end of the Earth out here, and the sun was this red semi-circle sitting on the edge of the ground. Around it, the sky had turned orange and pink. I’ll say this for Iowa: We don’t get sunsets like that in the city.

We hadn’t gone far when we found a vehicle. Some farmer dude had a white Ford F150 sitting on his front lawn right in front of the road. The sign in the windshield read, “4 Sale: $2500”.

“That’ll do,” I said.

We went up the long, gravel drive. It terminated at a farmhouse with faded and peeling white paint. It looked like it was at least eighty years old and hadn’t been maintained at all in that time. A storm door with a torn screen stood outside an interior door that had clearly once been red but had faded into a sickly shade of pink. A kiddie-sized Jeep sat decomposing in the yard, and a frayed, plastic, drop cloth covered a flowerbed and was held down by crumbling bricks. Whoever lived here was just getting by.

I opened the storm door and knocked. I let it fall back shut. Then we waited.

Several seconds later, the interior door opened. A big, well-muscled man with a goatee and at least three days’ growth on his cheeks gazed out on us with suspicion in his eyes. I could hardly blame him. Between my leather jacket and pants, Devlin’s trench coat and long hair, and both of us carrying weapons like we were refuges from a comic book convention, we might as well have screamed, “We’re not from around here!” at him.

“Can I help you?” he said, his voice suggesting we needed to move along.

“Is that your truck for sale?” I asked.

Farmer Dude crossed his red-plaid-shirted arms over his black, fleece vest. He stared at us from under the brim of a black ball cap with the Cat logo on it.

“Yeah,” he said. “What of it?”

“We’d like to buy it,” I replied, trying to sound friendly.

He put a hand to his chin and rubbed his beard for several seconds. His brown eyes shifted back and forth from me to Devlin.

“You got cash?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, trying to butter him up with an unearned honorific.

He stared at me for a couple more seconds.

“Let’s see it,” he said at last.

I’d anticipated this. I’d counted out three thousand dollars and put it in my coat pocket before we went up to the door. I didn’t want him to see me digging through the large stash in my backpack. He might decide he wanted to steal it, or he might think I was some sort of drug dealer and called the cops on us. Here in the middle of rural America, I was keenly aware that my skin was darker than his.

I pulled the money out of my pocket and counted out twenty-five hundred bucks.

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