When Hunter Meets Seeker: (An Arcane Society Novel - Paranormal Demon Romance)

by Betty Shreffler

  He soon discovered that sleeping with the same girl repeatedly made her sick, every time. Didn’t matter which girl. He tried avoiding sex for long periods of time which would only make him sick and weak. As soon as he’d have sex again his energy and strength increased significantly. The strength he’d gain wasn’t normal strength either. He was fast and strong, faster than any other males. Thankfully he’d met other demons after high school. Working in the places he did, he usually came across them.

  After meeting Serena his wishes were answered. He didn’t have to use women for sex, he didn’t have to worry about draining her vitality and killing her if they were intimate often. She’d been a gift to him until her greed took her from his bed to the bed of many others. With his jealousy unleashed, he killed another demon over her and that was when he realized it was over between them, had to be over, because she brought out the worst in him—the demon part of him that he had spent years learning to control.

  They’d remained friends and even after she started working where he did, he managed to keep his cool by not giving too much attention to her or her activities. He’d even built up a tolerance for going longer periods of time without intimacy. He’d weaken, but only to a normal human’s strength.

  Then came Anya with her beautiful auburn hair and mixed colored eyes, petite toned body, obvious strength, a level of sass that he appreciated. Her looks far surpassed Serena’s as did her lovemaking. He’d wanted to have her the first moment he saw her and every day after. When she returned to the bar his hopes raised that she’d come to see him, but she hadn’t and it disappointed him. He’d foolishly thought she was some kind of demon like him and that he could win her over. Be happy again. That thought exploded the moment he saw her hunter marks appear under the black light.

  After discovering she’d killed Serena that distrust for her as a hunter turned to hate. A hunter had killed his parents. He knew little else, only that demons should steer clear of hunters unless they wanted to die a painful death like his parents had.

  What made it worse for him was he still wanted her and her desire for him was like a perfume drawing him to her. So he’d given in, he’d taken her, he’d taken from her, absorbed her arousal and then left. She’d killed Serena, mercilessly. He couldn’t forgive that. He couldn’t trust her. He’d never be able to trust her. Just as she’d said, being an Arcane Hunter was all she knew.

  A demon and hunter could never work. He’d be setting himself up for another heartbreak and what would it take for her to turn on him and put a blade to his back?

  Dex’s eyes darkened as the pain swelled in his chest. He tipped the beer back, swallowing down the liquid, waiting for its numbing effect to take over. Why did she have to walk out of that room that night and why couldn’t he let go?

  There would be no sleep tonight. Between her fear of the shadow walker and the way Dex had used her, looked at her with disgust, and walked out on her, she’d decided to use this sleepless night to begin her trip to Tennessee where Dillon lived.

  She packed a bag for a couple nights, locked up her house, filled her gas tank, bought snacks at the gas station and hit the road.

  The quiet dark interstate gave her the needed time to think. Now alone with her thoughts, her chest ached. Feelings had begun to develop. There was no denying it. Dex intrigued her and if she didn’t have feelings she probably would’ve killed him. Whatever those feelings meant had been ruined now. He obviously hated what she was and hated her for killing Serena. He’d made that clear in the way he’d used her and then looked at her as though she repulsed him.

  Having been on the other end of that look, she felt bad for originally giving it to him for being an incubus. That didn’t matter much now. She’d steer clear of him, focus on finding out why a shadow walker came to visit, continue teaching the classes, and decide whether or not she truly wanted to ignore the orders. The only way to successfully do that would be to change her phone number. She’d think about it more. Perhaps when she got home, she’d take the plunge and do it.

  She wondered how long Jackson would stay mad at her. Hopefully once Serena’s enchantment wore off he’d think clearly again and understand why she did it. Maybe she’d even grow a pair and call Leo, tell him she was out. Maybe he’d be pleased that she was no longer competition or a part of his beloved organization.

  At a quarter of a tank and an hour away from Dillon’s she stopped for more gas and refreshments. As she neared the building she saw a flicker of movement in the shadow of the building. She darted back to her Jeep and grabbed the vial of salt. The shadow walker was clearly stalking her, trying to get to her. Her nerves bunched as she passed the shadow of the building to the entrance of the gas station.

  The cashier eyed her with curiosity. She shrugged it off and went for the peach sweet tea and a Little Debbie. After a meeting with the greasy cashier she walked out the gas station door, carefully eyeing the shadows cast by the building, ready to launch the salt and demobilize the demon’s shadow drifting.

  He seemed to sense what she had in store for him. He lingered, a dark figure swaying in and out of view, stalking the perimeter of the shadow like a caged lion. She hopped into her Jeep and gunned it. She clicked the interior light on, unconcerned with being pulled over. She’d rather deal with a cop than the shadow walker. They were one nasty demon that could suck the air right out of a room and your lungs. Leaving you gasping for air as they strangled you. Unable to grip any human figure you’d have a front row viewing of your death as the dark shadow lingered over you—its cold, cruel embrace the last thing you’d remember.

  Anya stared down the road, anxious to get to Dillon’s. She pushed the pedal harder, glancing in her rearview mirror every so often. When the horizon started to gray, her heart slowed its pace.

  An hour later, with the relief of the sun’s rays, Anya pulled into Dillon’s old log cabin home down a narrow dirt road. She neared the door, realizing she probably should’ve called before driving through the night to see him when he might not even be home. Either way the get-away was worth it.

  Before she reached the top step the door swung open. Dillon’s shoulder-length, grey-blond hair swayed sideways as he tipped his head, indicating she should come in. She stepped over the threshold, taking in the musky scent of an old bachelor.

  She looked Dillon over. He’d aged since the last time she’d seen him. He was much skinnier and had lost his muscle tone. Wrinkles danced around his eyes, more than she remembered. The wrinkles still accentuated his friendly chocolate eyes.

  “Anya, it’s good to see you.” Dillon leaned forward, tucking her into his long arms.

  She smiled, cherishing the warmth of an old friend’s hug.

  “Want something to drink?” he asked, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her into his tidy living room.

  “Yes, that’d be great.”

  Dillon walked into the open kitchen, turning on the burner for the tea kettle.

  “What brings you all this way for a surprise visit?” He joined her back in the living room, motioning for her to take a seat.

  She settled into the couch, across from the brown leather chair he occupied. “A shadow walker appeared in my apartment a couple nights ago and it’s been following me ever since. I asked Emerson, my handler, why a demon who is meant to be neutral is showing up in my home. He evaded the topic, told me he’d look into it and then shooed me from his office as though I had nothing to worry about. I came here hoping you’d have answers. I can’t trust anyone else.”

  Dillon leaned forward, thumbing one hand over the other. He seemed deep in thought. Those thoughts forming on his face were wiped away by the whistling of the tea kettle. He entered the kitchen, the clink of two mugs hit counter. He returned with the mugs, steam escaping them both. He handed one to her and sat down.

  “Have you ever wondered why you’re stronger than others or why you have markings on your skin that show up under certain conditions?”

  “Yes
, it’s what I was born as, a hunter.”

  Dillon blew into his mug. “No, Anya, it’s what you were trained as.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Do you remember anything about your mother?”

  She shook her head. “Father never said much about her.”

  “Your mother was a handuit demon.”

  Anya removed the mug from her trembling hand and set it on the tall end table next to the couch. “Are you sure?”

  “Very. I knew her.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Your father killed her.”

  Anya sucked in a breath. Her eyes widened. “Why?”

  “The Arcane Society discovered that she wished to keep you and Leo from your destiny. If you hadn’t joined the Arcane Society you would have joined the other side.”

  “What other side?”

  Dillon rested his mug on the coffee table and leaned back, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, and brought his hands together.

  “There are two kinds of demons. Those that are pureblood demons and those that are half-blood. Now if you’re a half-blood demon what do you suppose your only existing threat in the world is?”

  “A stronger pureblood demon.”

  “Very good. How do you suppose you keep the stronger threat at bay?”

  “You create hunters to kill them.”

  Dillon smiled proudly. “You always were quick-witted.”

  Anya stood and paced along the couch.

  “Everything, everything, I’ve been made to believe has been a lie?” She stopped and narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Yes. The Arcane Society was not created to keep a balance between good and evil, it was created by weaker half-blood demons in an attempt to lessen the threat of pureblood demons.”

  “What does that make me then? All this time I thought I was protecting innocent humans.”

  “You were, until recently. The Arcane Society has become corrupted by power. They’re no longer keeping the playing field even, they’re ensuring they have the upper hand. They’re targeting demons in positions of power and demons that are stronger, more dangerous to them.”

  “And what did my mother have to do with all this? Why would my father kill her for trying to keep her children away from the Arcane Society?”

  “You’re a special breed. You’re able to sense the presence of other demons, which is why every Arcane Hunter is a handuit demon or born from them. You weren’t created out of love. You were created out of necessity. Your mother planned to take you away so the Arcane Society couldn’t have you. She wanted to punish them, punish your father for using her.”

  Anya sat down before her trembling knees buckled.

  “He used her and then killed her?”

  Dillon’s eyes filled with sympathy as he nodded.

  Her jaw clenched. Her muscles constricted. “If he wasn’t already dead I’d kill him myself.”

  “I have no doubt you would.”

  “Why did you tell me all this? Aren’t you endangering yourself by sharing this with me?”

  “Yes, I am, but there isn’t anything left for the Arcane Society to do to me.” He glanced at the floor, contemplating something, and then looked back at her, studying her closely. “I’ve always considered you a daughter. I wish you had been mine. I loved your mother, but your father’s smooth words and skills won her over before I could. You turned out to be so much like her. I can see her when I look at you.” He sighed as he shook his head. “But your brother, he’s just like your father. He only cares about rising in power. The board accepted him as a member three days ago. He’s a threat to you now.”

  “Why would he be a threat to me?”

  “Who do you think sent the shadow walker after you?”

  Anya’s face fell into her hands. Her muscles were tight and her skin crawled over her. Nausea swirled in her belly, vomit tickled her throat.

  “Why would he do that?” she murmured, near tears.

  “Think about it, who is the only person stronger and smarter than he is? Who is the only demon that would be a threat to him and his rule?”

  Anya raised her head, meeting his gaze. “Why has he always seen me as a threat?”

  “He was always so jealous of you. You learned everything much quicker, excelled in skills he did not. You’re gifted in ways he is not.”

  “What do you mean, gifted?”

  “When I said you are like your mother and Leo like your father I did not mean just in personality and features. You possess the traits of a handuit demon while your brother favors your father, a mix-breed vuall demon.”

  Anya tucked her trembling hands together and held them against her chin. “Does Leo know all this?”

  Dillon nodded. “He has knowledge of everything I’ve shared with you. He is aware that you possess skills he does not.”

  Anya rubbed her face in her hands, soothing the ache in her skull. “How did he come to learn about our past, our parents and the Arcane Society’s secrets? And what skills do you keep referring to that I have and he doesn’t?”

  “I can show you. I need to get a couple things first.”

  Dillon disappeared down the hall to his bedroom or office. She sat there in silence, absorbing everything he’d said. An immense amount of pressure weighed down on her chest. She rubbed along it, trying to soothe it, trying to breathe normal. She’d already accepted long ago that the world she lived in was complicated. Filled with demons that hid among humans. She’d accepted she was born and raised to continue the Hunter’s Legacy. Her father had even hidden his true nature exceptionally well. He’d kept his distance from his children, always busy with work, a nanny to care for them when needed. She barely remembered him being home.

  Now her estranged brother had moved up in the hierarchy, fully aware of what organization he was really working for, what their goals really were. How far did Leo and the board plan on taking things? How many others knew about his arrangement with the shadow walker and what did the shadow walker get in return? Did Leo really want her killed? How much did Emerson know? He didn’t mention Leo’s rise to his new position. No, that’d been a very important detail he’d neglected to share.

  This must’ve been what her mother felt like when she discovered she’d been used by her father. Confused, angry, shocked, disgusted, not sure where to turn, fearful, empty, alone. Yes, surely she’d felt those things, because that’s how Anya felt now.

  Anya glanced toward the hallway. Dillon seemed to be taking a long time to get what he needed. A strange stench filled the air. She rose from the couch to investigate. She turned at the corner of the hallway and pulled the gold blade from its holster on her back. She crept forward. A loud snap echoed through the hall. She swiftly turned her body and ducked as flames and debris flew through the air, smashing into the ceiling, burning everything in its path. She bolted toward the front door, desperate to escape the explosion.

  As she crashed through the wooden door, two demons awaited her. She was quickly thrown to the ground, blood pouring out over the fresh wound on her arm. She grimaced from the burn on her skin as she watched the demon complete his transition. His body and neck elongated, hands and feet now clawed, small horns on each side of his skull—furor demons or at least half-blood ones.

  Anya dodged and rolled as a clawed foot came whishing through the air, aimed for her back. As she came to a stop the clawed foot of the first demon clamped down on her leg. She clenched her jaw and bit through the pain, a low grumble escaping her mouth.

  She raised the blade she held tight in her hand and stabbed it through the demon’s calf. He lurched his head back and let out the furor screech, the kind that could draw blood from your shattered ear drums. She held her palms over her ears, dropping the blade to the ground. The second demon snatched her free leg, dragging her across the ground. She reached out for the blade, grasping at it and barely gripping it with her index and middle finger. She tucked it into her chest as she was dragged across
the yard.

  Clawed hands came down, gripping her forcefully, tearing through her jeans, leaving a slow burn to sizzle over her skin. The wet stickiness filled her jeans around the wound. She kicked forcefully, giving her miniscule space to try to flee. She sat up, ignoring the fire in her legs. Clawed hands clenched her from behind. She raised her arms and thrust the blade next to her ribs, penetrating the first demon’s chest. Another screech escaped him before fading. The recognizable stench of remains filled her nostrils.

  The second demon’s eyes flickered. She saw the lunge coming. She twisted the blade forward and as he landed above her, she leaned back, letting the weight of his body land on the blade. Demon remains oozed over her arms, shirt and abdomen. She dropped her head on the ground, collecting her breath.

  After a feeble attempt to search for Dillon among the burning debris, she wiped away tears and dragged herself into her Jeep. She drove herself to a pharmacy, stumbling in, ignoring the strange looks from the cashier and photo lab technician. She grabbed aspirin, peroxide, bandages and tape and checked out. Her legs burned as badly as her chest. She wouldn’t be able to drive for a while. Sirens of a fire truck wailed as it barreled down the road in front of her. She knew where they were going. Her chest tightened and she gnawed on her lip to keep from shedding more tears.

  A short, painful drive down the street got her a hotel. She pulled into the parking lot and threw a jacket over her shirt and arms, tossed her first aid supplies in her overnight bag and tried to smooth down her hair before walking into the hotel. She didn’t dare walk up to the front desk. She could only imagine what she looked like. She walked briskly, making her way to the lobby restroom. Inside, she removed her clothes and examined the wounds. Burned and blistering skin swelled across her arm. Three five-inch gashes covered her left thigh and two shorter, less severe cuts along her right side. She grabbed a handful of paper towels and bit them between her teeth as she poured the peroxide into her wounds over the sink.