The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-6: A Complete Paranormal Romantic Comedy Series

by Deborah Wilde

  My outburst defused him. He got himself under control with a visible effort, his blades sliding back into his skin.

  Kneeling down, Rohan examined the gogota slime again. Maybe he thought things would turn out differently this time. When that failed to happen, he pulled out his phone, clenching his hand around it. “We can’t even call any other Rasha in.”

  “No.”

  “Not even Drio? You still don’t trust him?”

  “With my life? I do. With Ari’s?” I shook my head.

  Rohan paced in a tight circle. “You really think the Brotherhood is behind this?”

  “If you have another explanation, then please, lay it on me.”

  “You don’t leave my side. I’m serious.”

  I set an overturned table back to rights. “For how long? The rest of my life? That’s not realistic and we both know it. Look, I’m still alive.”

  “Barely.”

  “But I am. Whoever sent the first gogota after me, obviously sent this one after Gelman afterwards. She was still unharmed early yesterday. There’s been plenty of time to grab me or kill me since then. Maybe they want me alive and behaving for now.” I pushed the chair I’d sat in when I’d visited back up to the table, picked up Dr. Gelman’s sweater that had fallen, and carefully hung it over the back. “Meantime, I’m going to hope she’s still alive, she’ll phone me like she’s supposed to, and that we’ll know more then.”

  Dr. Gelman was a powerful witch and I wanted to believe she’d escaped this and was hiding out. Safe. I added this to the growing list of things I couldn’t think too closely about. Not until Samson was dead. Maybe not even then.

  “I need to call Ari.” There was nothing more to see here. Housekeeping would find the mess and report a missing guest to the police but this wasn’t something Rohan could cover up.

  I used a hotel phone in the atrium to phone my brother. “Ari?”

  “Nee, what’s wrong? Why do you sound like that?”

  I took a shaky breath.

  Rohan placed his hand on the small of my back. A tiny touch but enough to draw strength from. He wasn’t even watching me as he did it, intent on scanning the lobby for anything suspicious.

  I closed my eyes against the sucky knowledge that him being with Lily was going to change everything. He’d be faithful to her, careful with his affections to any other woman. Especially an ex-lover. Touches like this, even in a comrade-in-arms moment would be history. Well, he’d be going back to Los Angeles soon and we’d never see each other again.

  I clung to that uplifting thought.

  “Thistleton, Ace.” Mrs. Thistleton had been a neighbor of ours when we were kids. If we disagreed with anything she said, even a difference of opinion on the weather, her face fell like we’d driven a knife through her heart. Plus, she’d always had a million “requests.” Help her with the groceries. Walk her dog. It was impossible to refuse her without feeling like the worst person in the world.

  Ari and I had appropriated her name, turning it into a joke password between us. Whenever one of us wanted the other to do something, no questions asked, we said “Thistleton,” and the other had to obey or endure guilt galore. I’d used it most, usually to get my brother’s help in sneaking me in or out of the house.

  “Fuck that. You sound terrible.”

  “Thistleton,” I repeated. This time in a steely voice.

  He sighed. “Thistleton.”

  “Remember when you wrecked the Beamer? Go.”

  When Ari was sixteen, he’d fallen in love for the first time. The boy in question didn’t deserve it. To be fair, he wasn’t ready to come out. He’d humiliated my brother. Hurt beyond measure, Ari had run away in my mom’s car, a freshly waxed BMW 328i with buttery leather seats and a finely tuned engine. There had been an accident. He was fine and not the driver at fault, but Mom’s brand new birthday present, the car she’d been not-so-subtly dropping hints about for years, had been totaled. Ari had fled to our older cousin Yael’s place. Third cousin actually and the perfect hideout now. Distant enough that no one would look for him there, close enough to the two of us that he’d be welcome in her fancy, security-heavy apartment building without question.

  He was quiet for a moment. “Is someone watching your back?”

  I glanced at Rohan, standing guard over me. “Yeah.”

  “I’m gone,” he said and disconnected.

  Now Rohan’s phone rang. “Drio?” He listened for a moment, his expression hardening. I hovered anxiously, but didn’t get to find out what had happened because my own phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Nava.”

  Chills ran up my spine. “Samson.”

  Rohan told Drio to hang on, motioning for me to keep the demon talking. He moved next to me and I tilted the phone so he could hear both sides of the conversation.

  “You had me fooled with that little act of yours,” Samson said. Before I could say something glib in response he added, “I don’t like being fooled, Rasha.”

  “Poor baby.”

  “I’ll admit, you’re far more interesting this way. I’ve never met a female hunter before. You should have led with that.”

  “But then we would have missed out on all our good times.”

  He laughed. “The best is yet to come.”

  “Quit jerking around, Adramelech,” I said. “Tell me where you are and let’s finish this.”

  “Are you that impatient to end things with Rohan? Oh wait. That was an act, too. Should have known. You’re not exactly in his league.” I may have caused a scorch mark on the floor with the electricity that spat from my eyes, but I didn’t respond to his taunt.

  Rohan snatched the phone from me and hung up, resuming his call with Drio. “Come get us. We’ll be out front.” He tossed me my phone and walked off.

  I jogged after him, holding my questions until we’d gotten outside. The front of the hotel was busy, all tourists and luggage. No one paid any attention to us. Still, we stood off to the side of all the activity, speaking quietly.

  “Samson killed the two Rasha who abducted him after his radio interview,” he told me. I had no doubt Rohan would make him pay for that.

  I clutched his arm. “Mirek?”

  “No. Two of the guys from the bar. I’d only met them a couple of times. Still.” He touched his glamoured Rasha ring, an expression of grim determination on his face.

  There was nothing more to add. Two Rasha were dead. More death was a certainty.

  Drio picked us up. He looked up at the hotel with curiosity. “What brought you here?”

  “Later,” Rohan said. Drio didn’t press him.

  We drove out of town once more. Given the importance of the job ahead, of keeping my shit together, now was not the time to brood over what we’d learned back in Gelman’s room. I failed. Spectacularly. I leaned forward to see if Rohan was doing any better up in the passenger seat. His jaw as he stared straight ahead could have been carved from granite.

  Once again, we turned onto the dirt road leading to the farmhouse. The fact we came in mid-afternoon this time, when it was still light, wasn’t a plus. It was desolate out here. Even the sunlight seemed stark. Trees ran along both sides of the road, their naked branches stretching out like witch’s fingers, casting twisted shadows inside the car.

  The light did nothing to enhance the deserted two-story farmhouse either. The stone work on the first floor was black with dirt and age, while the horizontal wood siding that had been added up top was leached of all color. The rotting roof looked ready to cave in at any second. Only one window on the upper floor still had a pane of glass; the others had been blown out through time or Rasha encounters.

  I got out of the car, sidestepping a pile of loose rock by my foot. If there were neighbors, they were far away and on the other side of the woods that bordered the property on three sides. “Why would Samson give us the home court advantage?” I asked.

  “He said he wanted to kill us where we’d killed
the gemini.” Drio stuffed the car keys in his pocket. “I’m sure he does, since the other Rasha warded up the farmhouse, imprisoning him.”

  Ah. He needed our blood to break the ward and get free. “He couldn’t compel them into breaking the ward?”

  “No,” Rohan said, as we tromped over the weed-choked front lawn. “The ritual affected that ability.”

  “Then why not use the Rasha blood to break free once he’d killed them?”

  Drio’s mouth flattened into a hard line. He pointed out into the field between the house and the woods. About thirty feet away lay two blackened lumps that I’d mistaken for burned hay bales. My hand flew to my mouth.

  The stairs leading up to the front door were warped, twisting away from the house as if trying to escape. Smart stairs. A moldy sofa in a hideous brown velvet stood in the otherwise empty living room. Someone should have burned it and put it out of its misery.

  A creepy whistled tune came from everywhere at once, as if broadcast on a state-of-the-art speaker system. There was a sick clutch in my stomach as I recognized the tune. “I’ve Got No Strings On Me” from Disney’s Pinocchio.

  Drio flicked his eyes to the living room door. Rohan nodded. A flash of iron caught the weak sunlight as Drio flicked the ritual blade from some kind of wrist sheath. Then he zipped off. With his speed, he’d be able to search the house for Samson in seconds.

  Rohan and I crept into the hallway, following it toward the center of the house where it opened up to the second floor with a wide staircase. While Rohan went into the kitchen, I glanced up at the cathedral ceiling and the grimy skylight.

  In the second that it took me to look up, Samson appeared in human form. I shivered at the way his eyes tried to pierce my skin. Determined not to give him the upper hand, I called my magic up, letting it coat me in a bright blue glow. Lightning bolts slithered over my skin like animated tattoos.

  Gathering electricity between my fingers, I played with the strings of crackling blue and silver current, twisting and stretching them like they were taffy. Then I flung my magic at Samson. The current caught him across the face and chest like a net. His glamour fell away in patches, revealing the ravaged skin of his demon form, now bleeding from my attack.

  Samson whistled a few more notes at me.

  “Hardly a puppet.” With another ball ready to go, letting it dance over my fingers, I moved close.

  Samson laughed. A cruel sound. “You have no idea how many people are pulling your strings.”

  I chose to take his words as game playing of his own and not some demon intel about more people with me on their hit list. I patted his bloody cheek in mock affection. “I’d give a shit, Samson, but I ran out a while back and haven’t restocked.”

  Red eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Come to save the damsel in distress?”

  “Nah,” Rohan said from behind me. “Just watch your ass get pounded by a girl.”

  The demon’s glamour fell away. As his peacock feathers majestically unfolded behind his humanoid demon form, there was a rush of air and a blur of motion. Adramelech flew across the room, smashing into the back wall hard enough to partially break through it.

  I blinked. Drio now stood beside me, his fist still raised from the blow he’d dealt the demon. Note to self: being hit by speedster Rasha, bad.

  Drio’s lips curved in a sadistic smile. “I didn’t want to miss any of the fun.”

  Adramelech disappeared, leaving a demon-shaped imprint in the wall, and a handful of bent peacock feathers fluttering to the ground.

  The damn whistling started up again. Rohan and Drio ran upstairs, while I retraced our steps here on the main floor. I’d cleared every room and skidded back into the stairway area when a commotion overhead caught my attention.

  Adramelech managed to fight pretty well given the giant tail he carted around. He executed a low spinning kick, intended to take Rohan out, but Rohan jumped it, landing on the other side of the demon.

  Drio blurred toward Adramelech but the demon judged the approach correctly, managing to jump up and nail Drio with a two-footed kick in the chest. The hunter flew backward, but recovered quickly, springing forward into two consecutive handsprings, his legs jackknifing out in front of him.

  He caught Adramelech around the neck, twisting to pin him to the ground. The demon’s tail twitched once, twice, and then Drio’s skin started to bubble. Drio roared, trying to pull free as his arm burst into flame, but he was stuck until Rohan kicked him clear of the demon.

  Rohan decked Adramelech, catapulting him backwards over the low second-story railing. The demon crashed onto his back at my feet. He threw me a wink, hooked a hand around my ankle, and we disappeared.

  He’d transported us to a low-ceilinged attic. Patchy sunlight trickled through the gaps in the roof. I rushed him but he caught my hands in one wrist. My skin heated painfully under his touch. Electricity crackled between my skin and his, but he only laughed. “Knock yourself out. Can’t feel a thing for all the scarring.”

  I jerked free. “You’re a douchebag and should be plowed under like mulch.”

  “Volunteering for the gig?” Hearing Samson’s all-American accent coming out of this ruined flesh was disorienting to say the least.

  “Yeah. I’m a real humanitarian.”

  “You’re a real little actress. I’m impressed with your performance.”

  “Thought you didn’t like being fooled.”

  “Oh, I don’t. You’re going to die for that. But I appreciate showmanship. I’ve left you a gift. Rohan’s gig was… illuminating. In so many ways.”

  I eyed the stairs but Adramelech blocked my escape.

  He glared at me. “Are you listening?”

  “Not really. But don’t stress yourself. Long-winded villain plans are generally where I leave to go to the bathroom.”

  I feinted sideways and dashed forward. The demon caught me. Perfect. Now up close and personal, I wrapped my arms around his waist, brushed his tail away, and fired a burst of electricity into his sweet spot.

  Since we’d forced his true form using the ritual blade, only the use of that blade on his kill spot would end him, but my blast surprised him enough to give me a chance. Adramelech instinctively jerked backward at the feel of my magic. I pulled free, yelling for Drio as I sprinted down the stairs.

  The whoosh of wind against my skin was Drio blowing past me. Adramelech shot a blast of fire at him, and had Drio not had super speed, he’d have been flambéed. “Only need one Rasha to get free,” the demon taunted.

  I poked my head back up the attic stairwell to see he’d disappeared again. Cursing, Drio spun and was gone, hunting him. I followed, skidding to a stop in the atrium at the top of the stairs that led down to the main floor.

  Below, Rohan had Adramelech pinned facedown on the ground, Drio chanting as he stood over them. Rohan pressed the blade along his elbow against the demon’s spine, his knee resting on the peacock feathers, bending them out of the way.

  Adramelech burst into flame.

  Rohan kept his arm on the demon’s back, despite the flames engulfing his sleeve. Pain etched his features as he waited for Drio to finish the chant.

  I leaned over the low railing for a better look.

  Drio nodded at Rohan, who shifted, allowing Drio to plunge the ritual blade into the demon’s sweet spot. Adramelech winked out of existence, dead. All that was left was a single peacock feather.

  Rohan sank back on his calves, beating his still-flaming arm against the stone floor.

  As I stepped onto the top stair, headed for the pair, a black ball of smoke blazed up from the spot where the demon had lain.

  Drio barely managed to pull Rohan out of the way. The farmhouse went from zero to inferno in a second, smoke and flame billowing up toward me. Not a normal fire, this was oily and vicious, snapping in evil tendrils, sparking and hissing. The demon’s “gift.”

  The staircase collapsed in a rumbling roar. To jump down would be to jump into the heart of the fire. Bla
ckness curled and danced around me, sucking more and more light from the world. I felt my way along the wall, my lungs burning from the incessant heat, looking for a window. The smoke slithered inside me, defiling me. I spat it out as best I could, throwing my arm over my mouth and nose to make a filter.

  I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anything except the roar and crackle of the flames licking at the walls and floor behind me. The flames had a languid quality, as if they had all the time in the world to devour me. As a gift, this one sucked balls.

  My fingers brushed a doorframe and I almost wept. Granted, I was already weeping from the fire, my tears leaving sticky streaks on my cheeks. The faintest trickle of cool breeze swept over me and I turned toward it in relief. It had to be coming from one of the empty window panes. I could make it out of here. Safe. Not a second too soon, either, because out from the hallway came a deafening crash. I suspected the roof had caved in.

  I was almost to the window when I heard it. A thin, plaintive, terrified cry for help from another room. The person cried out again. Definitely female. When she cried out for a third time, this time for Rohan, I knew who it was.

  Lily.

  Chapter 27

  Swearing viciously under my breath, I detoured away from the window and towards Lily. I tried to call out that I was coming, to reassure her she wasn’t going to die, but I only coughed.

  I was willing to believe that the guys had escaped, anything else was unthinkable, but if no one was coming for me, it was because they absolutely couldn’t. That they were trusting me to make it out alive.

  That meant they had no idea that Lily was here. Was it my fault Adramelech had brought her here, by implying on the night of the wrap party that I could give him the person who could make Rohan hurt? The demon had said that night was illuminating. I’d never meant for him to turn his sights on Lily, but I’d done exactly that.