Demon Hunting In a Dive Bar Read Online Free PDF

be a gross-out.”
    “Toby,” Beck said, giving the bouncer a repressive glare.
    Toby shrugged. “I’m just saying. Course, some of the scavenger types might like it. In fact, I know them Skinners would.”
    The Skinners were white trash, plain and simple. They didn’t come into the bar very often, but when they did, they always brought trouble.
    Tommy’s brow crinkled in distress. “He’s right. Shoulda thought of that myself. It’s a health code violation to have me in the kitchen.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” Beck said. “We’ll find something for you to do. Where’d you used to work?”
    “I ran a Subway Shop in New Orleans.”
    “N’awlins,” Beck thought with an inward nod. Knew he wasn’t from around here.
    Toby perked up. “You got management experience? Hot damn. He can help out in the office.”
    Conall waltzed up to them like he owned the place. “Unwise,” he said in that haughty tone of his that drove her nuts. “You know nothing about the creature. Before you give him access to your accounts, you should at least query him about his Maker.”
    God, he was irritating as a pair of burlap drawers, the big Dalvahni know-it-all. Beck longed to tell him off, but her practical streak made her hesitate. Much as she hated to admit it—really, really hated to admit it—he was right. They knew nothing about Tommy and less about his Maker. No sense opening the barn door and inviting the wolf in to bed down with the sheep.
    “He’s got a point,” she said to Tommy, ignoring Conall’s grunt of surprise. “I need to ask you a few questions. I hope you understand.”
    “Sure, I understand, Miss—” Tommy looked embarrassed. “Shoot, I just realized I don’t know your name.”
    “I’m Beck, and this is Toby, my partner. We run the joint.”
    Tommy gave her a shy smile. “Nice to meet you, Beck.”
    “Enough,” Conall said. “Who is your master and why did he send you here?”
    Tommy’s face went slack and his eyes filmed over. “Uhn,” he said, as though his tongue had suddenly grown too big and thick for his mouth.
    “Answer me, fiend,” Conall said, lunging at Tommy with his sword.
    Tommy squawked like a startled chicken and leaped halfway across the room.
    Beck grabbed Conall’s arm. “Stop it. Don’t you get it? He can’t tell us about the Maker. It’s part of the spell. Right, Tommy?”
    Keeping a wary eye on Conall, the zombie tried to move his head up and down without success.
    “See? He can’t even nod,” Beck said. “He can’t betray the zombie master’s plans.”
    Conall lowered his blade. “A convenient circumstance, but I will abide by your wishes. For now.”
    “I’ll say one thing for him,” Toby said. “He moves fast for a dead guy. I could use him at the door on band nights. Keep the shifters from slipping in without paying the cover.”
    “That’ll work,” Beck said. “That all right with you, Tommy?”
    Tommy’s eyes cleared. “Yes, ma’am.”
    He still looked shaken, and who could blame him? Conall had scared the bejesus out of the poor guy with his testosterone explosion.
    “Good. Then it’s settled,” Beck said with relief. She felt bad for Tommy and wanted to help him. As an added bonus, hiring him to work at the bar would bug the crap out of Captain Smug Mug. “By the way, how’d you make friends with the kitten?” she asked Tommy. “I’ve been trying to coax her out of hiding for days.”
    Tommy smiled and stroked the cat with gentle fingers. “Her name is Annie. Ain’t that right, pussycat?”
    “Annie.” Beck rolled the name around in her mouth. “I like it. It suits her.”
    Tommy shuffled his bare feet on the floor. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m hungry.”
    “I knew it,” Toby cried. “Here we go. He’s gonna eat somebody’s brains.”
    “I done tole you I don’t eat meat,” Tommy said. “Wouldn’t eat yo’ brains no how. I wouldn’t say no to some tofu, though, if y’all got any.”
    “Don’t