Dark Hunt

by Richardson, Kim

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  FablePrint

  Dark Hunt, Shadow and Light, Book One

  Copyright © 2018 by Kim Richardson

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction

  in whole or in any form.

  Cover by Kim Richardson

  Text in this book was set in Garamond.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Summary: Rowyn is a Hunter and angel-born—a mortal with angelic essence flowing in her veins, and she’s going after demons with a vengeance.

  ISBN-13: 978-1721074747

  ISBN-10: 1721074740

  [1. Supernatural—Fiction. 2. Demonology—Fiction.

  3. Magic—Fiction].

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  DARK BOUND

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  BOOKS BY KIM RICHARDSON

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  1

  The demon smiled at me seductively. It wore the guise of a man, a very handsome one, with a chiseled jaw, straight nose, and perfect hair. His lips curled toward his eyes, making his whole face shine—the face of an Armani model. It was no surprise, with a face like that and wearing a suit that promised tight, rippling muscles, women were following it like a blowout sale at BCBG.

  But I was no ordinary woman.

  Its black eyes were like bottomless pits, promising eternal agony, and it sent anger shooting through me. God, I hated demons. Especially the ones that preyed and fed on human souls. I’d been tracking it for two days now, following the death trail of single women in its wake. All the victims were found naked in hotel beds without any signs of struggle or indication of how they’d died. They all shared the same strange smile on their faces, a smile of pure bliss. But with one look at the bodies, their emaciated skin and lacking any echoes of their life force, I knew what had killed them and what it had taken—their souls.

  We were dealing with an incubus. The sex demon possessed the power to lure women to bed with it, promising endless pleasure, only to end up dead and their souls taken.

  The New York City Police Department was looking for a serial killer—a human killer—and that had been their first mistake. But most humans didn’t know what dangers lurked in the night, the demons and monsters that crawled through the Veil into our world from the Netherworld, to feed.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose. It was trying to pull a charm on me. I felt its demon magic lace up my spine, warm and inviting, caressing me like the touch of a man’s hands over my skin. My face was impassive, but anger burned within me, like the summoning of fire.

  As a Hunter, tracking down and killing demons, along with all the other creatures that went bump in the night, was my usual line of work. It took a creature to catch a creature.

  I’d been hired by Father Thomas, one of Thornville’s local priests, for this job. Father Thomas was a modern-day Templar Knight, waging a secret war against the church’s enemies—demons and half-breeds—which the church hid from the public.

  Killing the incubus while inside the bar wasn’t the best idea. I needed somewhere dark, somewhere quiet.

  I smiled at the creature. The demon winked at me as it pushed itself from the bar and moved to the door, its every motion emanating a confident seductive grace. Then it slipped out of the Black Pony Irish Pub.

  It was cocky, and it wanted me to follow. Whether I’d been made or not didn’t matter. I gulped the last of my gin and tonic and followed it out.

  The streets were quieter than usual for a Friday night, and my boots clicked against the sidewalk as I followed the demon. It looked over its shoulder, eyebrow raised, and smiled confidently as it saw me. I clenched my jaw and kept going.

  The demon was leading me straight to a small, decrepit building with its exterior walls painted in graffiti and conveniently placed only a block away from the pub. My gaze lingered on the red flashing sign that read Charms Motel. Damn. It was taking me to the motel. The priest wasn’t paying me enough for this crap.

  This is pathetic, I thought, eyeing the dingy motel. I was way too good for this, but I needed the money.

  The number seven was stenciled in black above the door. The demon pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and walked in.

  It left the door open for me, a silent invitation. I hesitated as I watched it stride across the room to stand next to the bed. It removed its jacket and stood facing me, its human muscles peeking through the low-cut shirt. Oh, it was cocky.

  Smiling, I walked in and closed the door behind me. No need to alert the neighbors. As I stood in the narrow room, I ran my gaze over the typical motel room—one double bed, a striped beige and gray duvet with matching pillows and drapes, and tucked away toward the back was a single door, which I guessed was the bathroom.

  It smelled of old cigarettes and musk. My predatory instincts stirred as I felt another prickling of demonic magic tugging against my skin.

  It removed its white shirt effortlessly and tossed it in the nearby chair. “Come to bed, darling. Let me show you the pleasures you’ve never dreamed of. I know what you want. What all women want. I can give it to you.” The demon’s voice was low and seductive, like a lover’s purr. I wanted to vomit.

  “I doubt it.” I knew I was supposed to play along, but I couldn’t help it. I’d always hated handsome, overly confident men, who thought they could get women into bed with just a smile, a cheap meal, and lots of wine.

  The demon’s smile faltered just a little, its black eyes pinning me. “You’re afraid? Don’t be. There’s nothing to be frightened of. I promise. Just relax.” It crossed the room and closed the distance between us.

  Close now, I could smell the mixture of sulfur and male musk. It was tall, taller than I’d expected, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

  It licked its lips as it lowered its head. I felt the same pulse of demonic magic coming from it, sending tendrils of pleasure over me. I smiled as its magic pulsed one last throb and then melted away, just like all demonic magic and hexes do whenever cast on me.

  It pulled its head back. I saw the flicker of annoyance and then recognition as it realized its demonic magic had no effect.

  “You,” it said, its black eyes widened. “I’ve heard of you. The rogue Hunter… the angel-born…”

  I flashed it my best smile. “That’s me.”

  I pulled my soul blade from my waist. The angelic blades were given to us from the angels, forged from celestial metal and light, and as hard as diamonds. I whipped my blade at the demon, but it jumped back, slipping past me like a shadow, the tip just missing its chest.

  I hissed as I missed and stumbled forward. It was faster than I’d anticipated. It moved lik
e a cloak in the wind, dark as death, and just as quick.

  I could see its true shape. Now that it had to concentrate all its magic on surviving, a human guise required too much energy. With its glamour gone, it was naked with the shape of a man, but bent forward with long arms that grazed the floor ending in claws and hooves for feet. Its skin was marred with sores and open wounds filled with yellow pus. Hatred and bloodlust burned in its black gaze. Its leathery face had inhuman curves that most closely resembled that of a large lizard as they were illuminated in the soft light of the motel room. It reeked of death, and the smell of carrion filled the air.

  “Damn,” I said as I shook my head. “If only the women could smell you and see what you truly look like, there’s no way in hell they’d sleep with you. You are one ugly mother—”

  It shot at me. I felt its cold and powerful demonic magic rise against me, but I never let it finish.

  In one fluid movement, I ducked, and then I was up and spinning, the tip of my blade whistling through the air. The demon pitched back, crashing into the wall. It howled and lunged again when my blade was past. It hit me in the back, and I went sprawling onto the bed, the brute force knocking the frame apart and sending the mattress to the floor with us on it. I twisted around, just as the demon loomed over me.

  It howled as it shot at me again, yellow spit dripping from its mouth. My eyes burned at the stench of rot and sulfur.

  “You dare disturb my feasting!” roared a voice that was many voices, mixed with the wails of demons and the cries of dying men. “I will feast on your soul, angel bitch!”

  Its jaws met my jacket sleeve and tore into my flesh with its needle-like teeth. I swore as white-hot pain ripped through my arm. Hot ice ran through my veins—the demon’s poison. I felt the muscles of my arm tighten and then go numb.

  “Damn.” Incubus demons were notorious for using their venom to paralyze their victims into a complete trance when their glamour didn’t work. Not going to happen.

  I kicked out with my leg, and my boot vibrated as I made contact with its knee. The demon staggered back, but in a flash it went for me again.

  I struck at it with my blade, black blood spilling everywhere, but it was too quick. The blow glanced off, and it snapped at my arm again. Tears filled my eyes. The bastard was going to chomp my arm off if I didn’t stop it.

  I felt a rush of panicked anger as I yanked my blade into its side with a twisting cut to the sound of a wail. The demon let go and stumbled back, hissing and spitting. Black blood oozed from the cut on its side as the demon thrashed and spoke in the ancient demon language.

  “I’m a little rusty on my demon dialect,” I said as I spat some demon blood from my mouth. “But I think you just called me a very bad word. Am I right?” I frowned at the tear on my jacket sleeve. “Crap. Look what you did. This was my one good jacket. I can’t afford a new one, not even with this lousy job’s pay.”

  The incubus turned its head very slowly in my direction. Shit. It was really mad.

  It sprang at me again, running like a streak, just a blur of black and shadow. Before I could stop it, we hit the wall together with a frightening force. The impact of pain took the breath from my lungs, and I felt my soul blade slip from my hand. A shower of wood fragments and plaster exploded into the air, falling over my hair, and dust blew into my eyes, blinding me momentarily. I was pinned to the wall and couldn’t move.

  The demon shrieked in laughter, and its warm breath assaulted my face as it spoke. “I will rip the skin off your bones slowly, until you beg for mercy, until you cry out for your mommy… and then I will suck out your soul like water through a straw.”

  It pressed its body against me. I screamed as I kicked and struggled to get away. Hell, I was not going to end up soul-sucked by this incubus in desperate need of a shower.

  It grabbed a fistful of my hair, pinning my head to the wall as it licked my face.

  I gagged, my eyes watering at the reek of rotten meat. “Screw you.”

  It punched my side, knocking the wind from my lungs. “With pleasure.”

  I felt the demon going for my neck before it even moved. I cried out, panicking as a guttural laugh tore my ears. Its hand clasped around my neck and began to squeeze.

  Blood rushed to my face. I couldn’t breathe. Where was my soul blade?

  There was only one thing to do when about to be soul-sucked by an incubus without a soul blade, and that was to hit it where it counts.

  I raised my knee with as much force as I could muster and hit it right in its groin—well, what I expected was its groin. It worked. The incubus howled in pain and fell back onto the ground, hunched over.

  It was male, after all. Even male demons had their weaknesses.

  I snatched my soul blade from the orange-stained carpet, and a thrill rolled up my spine. The fight wouldn’t be ending so soon. I would dance with the demon a little while longer and let my rage free.

  “You’ll never hurt another woman ever again, demon.”

  The demon laughed, a seductive kind of laugh. “Who said you’re capable of killing me?” It raised itself to its full height.

  “I just did.”

  With a flick of my wrist, I let my soul blade fly. It flew true and straight and hit the demon straight in its right eye socket.

  The incubus burst into flames. It made a horrible scream as it thrashed around the room, its mouth opened wide and teeth snapping as flames burned all over it. Its howl made my skin crawl. Hunched over, it staggered toward me, still on fire, and I backed up.

  “I know what you are,” screeched the demon, pointing at me with a flaming hand. “I know! They know it too. They all know it! And they’ll find you! Death is nearer than you think! I’ll be back—”

  The demon burst into a cloud of gray ash. I didn’t even wait for the demon ash to settle as I stepped through the falling dust, crossed the room and picked up my blade. I wiped it clean with one of the drapes. It’s not like anyone would even notice, not with the hole in the wall, the broken bed, and the pile of ash that would soon settle all over the room.

  My soul blade gleamed. I could see the reflection of my thin face staring back at me, framed by a tangle of long brown hair. God, I was a mess. I needed a shower. Groaning, I sheathed my blade back to my waist.

  “Nice work,” said a voice behind me.

  I flinched and whirled around.

  A man stood in the doorway, and I never heard his approach.

  2

  I kept my hand on the hilt of my blade as I gazed at the stranger. Demon? He didn’t smell like a demon, and he was pretty, very pretty. How much had he seen? How was it that I never heard the door open?

  But it was nothing compared to the shock I felt at his easy demeanor as he strolled into the room uninvited like he owned the motel. He moved with fluid grace, the way all predators moved. He was handsome with tousled hair and tanned skin, which meant he spent a great deal of time outside. His carefully tailored clothes, all black, finished the look with a black leather jacket. An enchanting smile curved over his clean-shaven features, giving him the look of someone my age—in the twenty-four-year-old range.

  Warning bells were going off in my head at his casual entrance, making my stomach clench. I was certain he had just witnessed me murder a human—and he was smiling. It was a compelling smile, mixed with confidence and secrecy. Two blades hung from his weapons belt. Curious.

  My eyes moved to the low V of his shirt, to the P-shaped birthmark on his neck—the archangel Michael’s sigil. Ah-ha. The stranger was a Sensitive, an angel-born like me. Well… almost like me.

  Sensitives, or angel-born, have been around as long as man has been walking the Earth. We’re primarily human but have angel essence flowing in our veins—a secret race of humans created by the archangels, bred with supernatural abilities to be the eyes and ears of the Legion of Angels on Earth. Just like guardian angels, angel-born monitor mortals and protect them from demons. Unlike regular humans, we can see through th
e Veil—the supernatural layer that acts as a glamour or an illusion and changes the way things look to mortal eyes. It prevents mortals from seeing the true self of angels and demons.

  I hadn’t seen another angel-born in five years. I didn’t recognize him as a member of Hallow Hall, the Sensitive safe house and workplace in Westchester County, about thirty miles north of New York City. But then again, I had left that life a long time ago. The Sensitives had safe houses in nearly every big city in the mortal world—from New York to England to Sydney, Australia. He could be from anywhere.

  My stomach tightened, and I wondered if I’d have to fight my way out. How had the Council found me? I had walked away from that life and never looked back. That was a big no-no in the demon-fighting world. It was against the Council Law. Being an angel-born meant a life contract. Leaving put a price on your head. As an angel-born in exile, I was an enemy of the Council. I had known all this. Still, I had left.

  The stranger looked around the room. “This place is trashed. You going to pay for the damages?” He smiled cheekily at me, like he knew I was broke.

  My face burned with indignation. He was starting to tick me off. “What do you want?” I’d never taken my hand off the hilt of my blade, and I wanted him to know it.

  The stranger pursed his lips. “Straight to the point. I like that.” His eyes moved to where my hand still rested on my blade. “You’re a Hunter for hire, right? Rowyn Sinclair?”

  I shifted my weight and arched my brows. “Who wants to know?”

  “We heard you were back in town,” said the stranger, his voice rising and falling pleasantly as his eyes met mine. “I have a job for you.”

  “You mean the Council has a job for me.” I wasn’t sure I liked where this conversation was going. My heart pounded, and I hated how just thinking of the Council made my blood boil. I moved my gaze to my waist and to the dirt under my nails. “I don’t care what the Council wants or has to offer. I left that life a long time ago,” I said, curling my fingertips over my blade to hide them. “I’m not going back. You might as well turn around and leave.”