Memoirs of a Dragon Hunter

by Katie MacAlister

  There wasn’t time to dwell on the fact that he had just decapitated a demon that almost killed me—the two other demons rose from the ground where Ian had knocked them back, the one with a knife coming for me, while the other kicked Ian’s legs out from under him, sending the pair to the ground in a furious twisting mass of man and demon. The third demon rolled over to join the action.

  I crawled over to where my sword was, holding it with hands that shook horribly.

  “Dragon hunter,” the demon in front of me said, spitting at my feet, his lips pulled back to reveal very sharp, pointed teeth. There was something about his face that didn’t look right, not quite human. Perhaps it was the angles and contours, or perhaps it was the way he seemed to emit dread in palpable waves. “I will take your corpse to my master, and watch him flay the flesh from your body and feed it to his dogs. Prepare to die!”

  “You know the problem with a chatty demon?” I asked, managing to parry a thrust he made with a wicked-looking long dagger now stained maroon.

  He paused for a moment, his horrible pointed teeth snapping together. “What?”

  Panting, I nodded over his shoulder to where Ian staggered forward. He thrust his sword straight through the demon’s chest, covering me in a spray of black demon blood.

  “You are too busy gloating to realize your buddies are gone, and now it’s two against one. Oh, my goddess! OH, MY GODDESS! Is this blood? It’s all over me! Goddess knows what sort of horrible disease I could pick up from it!” I did a horrified little dance at the spray of black across my shirt, then hurriedly tucked my sword under my arm in order to pull out my hand sanitizer. I wanted to douse myself with it but knew that wasn’t practical. “I’m going to have to burn this shirt, too! Holy gallon of bleach, that smoke stinks.”

  Ian stood panting before me, blood dripping from a nasty gash over his left eye. “Tell me, do you always announce to demons that they have options other than violence?”

  “I’ve never attacked anyone before, and it seemed only fair to warn them that I have this badass sword, just in case they wanted to reconsider. I mean, it can’t be a very good life being a demon, and perhaps they are regretting their career path.” I decided to ignore the blood splattered across my front. The alternative was to rip my clothing from my body, and I wasn’t prepared to do that, so instead I told myself the demon blood wasn’t there and pulled from my pocket both a tissue and a latex glove. I donned the glove and used the tissue to dab at the cut that was dripping blood down Ian’s face. “You should probably get a doctor to have that stitched; otherwise it’s going to keep bleeding.”

  He grabbed my hand, giving me an odd look with mingled exasperation and curiosity. “Dragon hunters do not warn demons of impending attack. We end their existence whenever we encounter them in order to protect those whom they would destroy without prejudice. We do not try to rehabilitate them into less destructive careers. What the hell was the matter with you? Why did you let that demon get you onto the ground? Did you want to be killed? Or is this your attempt to drive me insane with guilt?”

  “I didn’t let him do anything,” I said, pulling my hand back, confused by Ian’s ranting. I had a moment’s qualm about what to do with the bloody tissue, but decided that since it was his blood, he could keep it, and accordingly pushed it into the pocket on his coat, swiftly followed by the glove. “I’ve never used a sword before, and I was worried I was going to stab myself with it. Why would that make you feel guilty?”

  He stared at me for a moment as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just said, then strode past me, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

  “That was awesome!” Teresita said, running over to where I stood, frowning at my sword. I had nothing on me with which to clean it, and it was stained black in spots, presumably splattered from the demon’s blood. “Did you see Ian? He was all swoosh, swoosh, and boom! One dead demon. Did you see the way his head went flying? It was like something out of a Quentin Tarantino movie! Holy moly, he was awesome. That demon was all over you until Ian bang, zoomed his head right out of there.”

  I gave her a sour look that she evidently read accurately.

  “You were…uh…” She stopped, unable to continue.

  “Inefficient?” I said, arranging a martyred expression.

  “Well…it was your first time fighting. I suppose everyone has to start out learning from square one. Only you went down awfully fast.”

  “That demon was a bastard. Also, I don’t like fighting people. For one, you usually have to touch them in order to fight, and for another, I’m not a violent person. I don’t suppose you have a rag on you, do you?” I asked, examining the sword. I hated to put it away in the scabbard when it was dirty.

  “What would I be doing with a rag?”

  “I can see I’m going to have to add that to the items I carry in case of emergencies.” I looked at Sasha when she meandered over to us. Beyond her, next to the car, Ian stood with a cell phone to his ear. “Is there some cleaning compound recommended for swords?”

  “Yes. The clothing of your victims. Did your dead sister ask you to do something for her?”

  “Why on earth would you ask that?” I shook my head, confused by her quicksilver conversational changes of topic. “Did you know Helen?”

  “Everyone has heard of her.” Sasha tipped her head and blinked her big anime eyes at me. “I hope you do what your sister asked, because I just don’t see that there’s anything else Ian will want to barter for. He has this thing about failing to protect innocents, you know, and he’s going to balk big-time at you because of that. Toodles!”

  “Huh?” I was about to ask to what she was referring, more than a little uncomfortable at the idea that she knew of the quest Helen had given me before she died, but Sasha just gave us both a cheery smile, then marched back to the car. Ian, still on the phone, got in and, without a look at us, drove off.

  I stared first at the car as it pulled out onto the highway, then at the empty van, and finally, to Teresita. She had a thoughtful look on her face and was tugging absently on her ear. “What the hell was that all about?” I asked her.

  “I think,” she said slowly, looking at her phone to check the time, “it means we need to do some research. Or we could go meet with Aspen and John, although I suppose it is easier to look up what we can first.”

  “You think Sasha was talking about the woman Helen wanted me to find? How did she know about that? And why would that be a bartering point with Ian? Does that mean he wants the woman, too?”

  “He’s a dragon hunter like your sister,” Teresita said with a little shrug. “Maybe all you guys are hunting for this chick.”

  “Maybe. But what am I supposed to be bartering for?” We started across the parking lot to where my car was parked.

  “Lessons on how to fight without falling down and having demons throttle you?”

  I glared at her. “I stumbled, and I told you, I’m not a fighter.”

  “Then you better learn how to be one pretty quick, because I don’t see how you’re going to be a superhero without fighting.”

  “Also, I was worried about the sword. Those things are dangerous! I could have gutted myself on it.”

  “My point exactly. You need training. Ian is clearly a master at fighting, and falling without impaling himself on his sword. Therefore, he can teach you, and you can be the badass you’re supposed to be.” She took off at a jog, calling over her shoulder to me, “Come on! Google is awaiting, and we have damsels to rescue.”

  “From vague and unspecified threats that could be anything from a jealous ex to outright murder and mayhem. Sometimes I have to wonder if Helen wasn’t hallucinating the whole thing.” I followed after Teresita, my steps dragging. The anxious beast in my head asked me what I’d gotten us into.

  “I wish I knew,” I told it under my breath. “I really wish I knew.”

  Chapter Seven

  A RASPY, BUZZING SOUND FILLED THE APARTMENT. Ian frowned at the
door, setting down the washcloth he was using to wipe the blood off his face.

  “Door!” Sasha said helpfully from where she sat cross-legged on the floor, holding a one-legged chicken and a duck who was clearly molting on her lap while she read something on a tablet computer.

  “Thank you,” Ian said drily. He paused at the sight of the chicken. “Do I want to know where you got those two?”

  “Probably not, since it involves breaking into someone’s yard and rescuing them from certain death. What’s Facebook? It keeps telling me I should have one, but I don’t like books that have faces. They are always rude, and you have a hard time shutting them up, not to mention they go on and on about the most boring bits of trivia, and refuse to let you leave until you’ve listened to at least ten of their personal anecdotes.”

  “Sounds about right.” Ian opened the door. A woman stood before him, her blond hair pulled back tightly into a bun, her expression such as to raise the fine hairs on the back of his neck. “Iskandar,” the woman said. “The master sent me.”

  Ian tried to slam the door shut on the demon. He knew that face, knew that rough, grating voice.

  The demon blocked the door, insinuating herself into the room a few inches.

  “There is nothing here for you,” he snapped, trying to shield her view of the apartment. He fought the urge to strike her down, knowing Anzo would not take the death of a favorite lightly. Then there was Sasha to think about. He would protect her at all costs.

  “I am to assist you,” the demon announced, her lip curled. “Or so says our master. Do you defy her?”

  Ian hesitated, wondering what Anzo’s reaction would be to an outright refusal. A little shiver went down his arms. He had a feeling the outcome would be very bad. “For what purpose did Anzo send you?”

  “She thinks you need help.” The demon gestured toward a small black suitcase on wheels. “I will remain with you until such time as the courier has been taken into custody.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed, fear and worry crawling in his gut. He really did not want this murderous demon anywhere around. She was far too dangerous. “I don’t need help. I work alone. I always have, and I always will, so you may tell Anzo that I will find the woman when I find her, and sending minions to pester me will only draw my attention from the problem at hand.”

  He tried to shut the door, but the demon shoved against it, attempting again to gain entrance. Ian stood firm. No one entered his domain without his permission.

  The woman issued a low, guttural snarl. “You of all people must know that I am not a lowly minion. I am a wrath demon, exalted in the master’s eyes and first in her honor. I lead seventeen legions of my own demons and possess the sword known through Abaddon as Deathsong! I have slain mortals and immortals alike for eight centuries and am feared by all who gaze upon me! I am Falafel!”

  Ian choked down his inappropriate laughter at her ridiculous name. But the realization that Anzo was up to something struck him almost immediately. Why else would she send the very demon who was responsible for his bondage, and most likely Adam’s death? A normal demon was bad enough, but a wrath demon was just a step away from being a demon lord, and this one was particularly vicious. He did not need her moving in with him.

  Not while he had Sasha to protect.

  “Your very presence here is a violation of the laws set down by the premiere prince of Abaddon. Thus, I do not have to abide by your demands. Goodbye.”

  He gave the door a hard push before she could react and locked the three locks that kept outsiders from his sanctuary.

  The demon started pounding on the door almost immediately.

  “Problems?” Sasha asked, looking up as he ignored the knocking and strode over to the small table where his cell phone, wallet, and keys lay.

  “Nothing that I can’t take care of. Here. Go see a movie.”

  “Huh?” Sasha moved the duck and chicken to a small, partially filled children’s wading pool, one side of which contained a few cinder blocks above the water level. The chicken settled into a small roosting area created with shredded paper and grass cuttings, while the duck happily splashed in the water below it. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Yes.” He gave her money and his car keys before moving over to the window. Outside, an ancient fire escape clung to the side of the building. “Go out this way.”

  “Well, this is very interesting. I love it when you act unexpectedly. Can’t I stay to watch your behavior with the demon who’s trying to beat down the door?”

  “Sasha,” he said, warning dripping from his voice.

  She giggled, took the keys, and climbed out through the window onto the metal fire escape. “Shall I bring you some food after the movie, or will you be busy entertaining your girlfriend?”

  “The demon?” he asked, horrified at the thought.

  She giggled again. “No, your new protégée. The one who lives upstairs. Hey, if she becomes your apprentice, does that mean I graduate to full-fledged dragon hunter?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend or my apprentice. Go away and stay away.”

  “For a few hours, or forever?”

  He ignored the twinkle in her eyes and firmly closed the window before winding his way around the various animal domiciles to the door. He opened it to find exactly what he thought he’d find: a very angry wrath demon.

  “You are insubordinate!” she snapped. “The master will not be pleased to know you have treated me such and will no doubt punish you. I will greatly delight in watching the punishment.” She cracked her knuckles in a menacing sort of way. “I might even plead with her to conduct it.”

  “Go back to your realm,” he said, his odd sense of humor making him want to laugh hysterically. As if dealing with Sasha’s burden along with his own wasn’t enough, now he was expected to take on a wrath demon? No, it was too much. He drew the line at cohabiting with a being who was able to destroy him without breaking into a sweat. “I don’t need or want your help.”

  “Wrath demons do not help—”

  He closed the door in her face. He knew he’d hear from Anzo about treating her favorite badly, but there was little the demon lord could do to him that he hadn’t already survived.

  A knock sounded just as he turned to go back to the bedroom. He sighed to himself, then steeled his nerves and jerked open the door.

  Falafel wasn’t alone. The woman from upstairs, the dragon hunter with the prettiest gray eyes he’d ever seen, stood next to her, shooting curious side-eye to the wrath demon.

  “Er…hi.” The woman cleared her throat nervously. “I thought I should check on your cut.”

  He stared at her for a moment, desperately trying to dig her name out of the recesses of his memory. Victoria? No, Veronica. That was it. Her friend, the chatty one, called her Ronnie.

  “My cut,” he said stupidly, before remembering that she’d been poking at it earlier, when he had destroyed the five demons.

  “Yeah. It looks like you didn’t see a doctor after all.” She studied his face.

  “Who,” Falafel said in a tone that seemed to be made up of sharp edges, “is this?”

  Ian had a horrible vision of the demon finding out that Veronica was the dragon slayer whom Anzo sought, and the carnage that would follow. Without thinking of the consequences of such an action, he answered, “She’s my woman.”

  Veronica’s eyes widened when he pulled her through the door and straight into his arms, pausing only to whisper, “Please don’t take offense” in her ear before kissing her.

  He intended the kiss to be purely functional, a farce to sell the first story his abused brain could come up with, but the second his mouth touched Veronica’s, all those intentions of pretense went flying. Her lips were warm and soft, delightfully so, enough that on their own, his body came to life and demanded an immediate introduction to all the various parts of her. But when she parted her lips in what he assumed was an outraged gasp, her heat sank deeply into his awareness, saturating h
is thoughts and bringing his always-burning dragon fire roaring to sudden life. She tasted spicy, as if she’d been eating cinnamon, and sweet, and the heat of her tongue when it touched his made the dragon in him demand possession of her. Of her mouth. And dear goddess, all the rest of her.

  He was aware that she’d put both hands on his chest and pushed back, and reluctantly he let her go. It was a struggle, since dragons did not like to relinquish what they wanted, but decades of mastering both sides of his psyche allowed him to drop his hands with only a faint sense of disappointment.

  Until he looked into her eyes, those lovely gray eyes ringed with thick black lashes, and saw the answering flames. He knew then that she was truly a dragon hunter. No one else showed their inner self in such a manner.

  But why was she so very bad at what she was born to?

  “What the hell?” Veronica said, glaring at him. Then her gaze dropped to his lips, and she repeated, in much less anger, “What the actual hell?”

  “If you think to sicken me with displays of affection, you will fail,” the wrath demon said, curling one lip when she eyed Veronica. “What you do with mortals is of no concern to me or the master, so long as you do the job you have been given. We will discuss—”

  “Nothing,” he interrupted, tugging Veronica farther into the room. “Now is the time I spend with my woman having sex. Go back and tell your master I will do the job as I see fit, or she can release me and find someone else to do it.”

  “Sex!” Veronica said, looking horrified.