Demon Hunting in Dixie. Lexi George

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      Demon Hunting in Dixie

      LEXI GEORGE

      LYRICAL PRESS

      Kensington Publishing Corporation

      www.kensingtonbooks.com

      All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

      Table of Contents

      Title Page Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-one Chapter Twenty-two Chapter Twenty-three Chapter Twenty-four Chapter Twenty-five Chapter Twenty-six Chapter Twenty-seven Chapter Twenty-eight Chapter Twenty-nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-one Chapter Thirty-two Chapter Thirty-three Chapter Thirty-four Chapter Thirty-five Chapter Thirty-six Chapter Thirty-seven DEMON HUNTING WITH A DIXIE DEB BIG BAD BEAST TOUCH OF A THIEF NEVER CRY WOLF Preview - Demon Hunting in the Deep South Copyright Page

      To Megan Records—

      Thanks for “getting” me and for giving me this chance.

       To Jill Marr—

      Thanks for having my back.

       To Carla Swafford—

      You are my guardian angel.

      Chapter One

      Addy glanced up at the rumble of thunder, her pace slowing to a jog. Alabama summers were a pressure cooker of high temperatures and humidity, and thunderstorms came up in a hurry.

      “Whatcha think, Dooley, is it gonna rain?”

      Dooley whined and tugged at her leash, eager to continue their late-night run in the quiet, gated community they called home.

      “Okay, but you’re sleeping in the kitchen if we get wet.” Addy allowed the dog to urge her toward the trees at the end of the park. “Eau de Wet Dawg is not my favorite cologne, especially on my new sheets.”

      She set off down the smooth path at a comfortable pace with Dooley panting at her side. Running was her stress reliever. And between owning and operating her own floral business and lending a hand at the family funeral parlor, Addy had a lot of stress.

      As they rounded the curve, she eyed the clump of trees ahead with unease. A sense of quiet expectancy had settled over the little park. She and Dooley had made this run a hundred times before, but tonight the cluster of oaks seemed brooding and sinister, the shadows beneath their branches a living, breathing thing. She ran a little faster, anxious to get past the trees and reach the safety of the lights beyond. The steady slap of her running shoes against the pavement and the sound of Dooley’s snuffling seemed loud in the stillness.

      She heard a second clap of thunder and skidded to a halt, tightening her grip on the leash. Dooley feared no mailman, but she was a major weenie when it came to thunder. She glanced down, expecting to find the dog trembling with fear. To her surprise, Dooley stood stiff-legged beside her, hackles on end, her unblinking gaze fixed upon the murky thicket. The dog rumbled low in her chest and took off without warning, jerking the leash from Addy’s hand.

      “No, Dooley, no!” Addy rubbed her stinging palm against her thigh, watching in growing dismay and dread as the Lab headed straight for the trees and disappeared into the darkness. “Come back here, you stupid mutt!”

      “Damn!” She took off at a run after Dooley. “Why couldn’t I have been a cat person?”

      She plunged into the woods and faltered. The trees had changed, the dozen or so familiar oaks mushrooming into a forest of birch, elm, maple, beech, and ash. She squinted into the gloom. The trees seemed to be waiting; the forest hushed, but for the steady, faraway sound of Dooley’s barking.

      Addy’s heart pounded as she picked her way through the woods. The thick carpet of leaves dulled the sound of her footsteps. Here and there a birch tree shone ghostly white in the darkness. She stumbled over fallen branches and scratched her arms and legs on briars and vines. Muttering under her breath, she pushed her way deeper into the forest. Stubbornness and concern for Dooley were all that kept her moving forward. If she stopped to examine things too closely—like how and why an entire forest of hardwoods had sprung up overnight in the middle of her boring little park—she knew she’d be too scared to go any farther. Better to keep her mind focused on the task ahead. Find Dooley and strangle her. She climbed over a fallen tree trunk and stepped