DEMONS
A Hunter’s Novel
Book 1
(Yes, this is a series. But there is an ending to part of the story contained in this book.)
Felicite Lilly
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Felicite D. Lilly
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact Felicite Lilly directly through the copyright office or [email protected].
First Edition March 2015
Dedications
Chris, my husband, for always supporting me when I needed it, which is always....
Ethan, my son, for bringing unpredictability and endless joy to our lives.
My Mom and Dad (Loukia and Bill) you are where all this started…without you I wouldn’t have been able to do this.
Nichole, my sister, for always encouraging me to write…even though some of your ideas were off the wall, they were always funny.
Moira, my friend, you supported my love for this book from the beginning encouraging me to toss that first book. You were right. (Now that it’s forever in print I won’t ever say it aloud).
Jenny and Becky, my BFF’s, so much of these characters reflect you ladies. I put you together, because that’s who you are, forever close to each other and to me.
Erin C., my friend, thank you for reading this and being honest with me always. I need that.
Kristen, thanks for reading and being the last eyes on this one before publishing.
Diana, for giving me a wonderful “author photo”
Cover design by uniqudesignxx (I bought all rights to the cover, but I still give her credit because she did such a phenomenal job!)
To all my readers:
I hope you enjoy the journey as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I wrote this for you.
Contents
~I~
~II~
~III~
~IV~
~V~
~VI~
~VII~
~VIII~
~IX~
~X~
~XI~
~XII~
~XIII~
~XIV~
~XV~
~XVI~
~XVII~
NAME MEANINGS INDEX FOR ALL BOOKS (THUS FAR)
~I~
“Deep down I know this never works, But you can lay with me so it doesn’t hurt.”
– Sam Smith, Stay With Me
I needed the numbness like a heroin addict needs their next fix. Or at least to be distracted for a few hours, or days, depending on if this guy could serve his purpose for that long. Which from the monotonous blabbing he was doing about his work, and his great life, and all of his money, was going to happen.
He had already tediously described his house. I didn’t give a fuck about his house. I didn’t care that he had an oval whirlpool bathtub that was next to a window with a view that overlooked the main strip of downtown Miami. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything but getting in this guy’s bed, fusing my body with his and leaving everything else behind. For those brief moments I could pretend the guy I was with was actually the man I wanted inside me. The man who truly owned me body, heart and soul.
For now, though, the guy in front of me was talking about school and his direction in life. The numbness this man was causing started to set in when I realized he had spoken to me.
“…it’s like I didn’t know where I was headed until I found medicine, you know?” He said. I nodded my understanding, even though I didn’t.
Right, he was a doctor, I almost forgot. (Insert sarcasm here.) He had been talking about medicine and being a doctor every two seconds. It was part of why I had agreed to this “date”. He was a self absorbed, cocky doctor.
I knew he’d suit my purposes perfectly when he had tried picking me up at a Starbucks with, “…as a doctor, I don’t know what I would do without this nectar of the Gods.” (Shaking his non-fat double shot mocha latte, iced, of course.) “Although, I imagine your nectar’s pretty sweet, too.” He said as he wagged his eyebrows suggestively at me. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not but I also couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of me. He mistook my laughter for interest in him, when it was really because of the absurd line he had just delivered. There was no way I was laughing at him right?! That I wasn’t interested in him. As I said: cocky and self absorbed.
But, at the moment, I didn’t care. I just needed to be pulled away from my painful reality. The hard part of me was the only part I had let remain over the last six months. I had shelled out all of the soft parts of me with fucking random guys.
The first few were the worst. I’d cry after we had both gotten what we needed. Every one of those guys couldn’t hit the pavement fast enough and I couldn’t say I blamed them. I’m pretty unstable. So, I had warmed up to this Dr. Douche and hooked him, although he didn’t know it.
Even though I didn’t give a sizzling shit about what he was saying, I had to pay attention now because he was actually talking to me instead of at me. I hated that. I just wanted the numbness again.
“So, what do you do?”
It was the only real question he had asked me in the hour we had been out together. Not a bad record. I couldn’t respond with the truth of what I did: I’m a Hunter. I kill things that shouldn’t be on earth. You say that to someone from the human world and they tend to call the looney bin to come pick you up. That and the fact that there was a severe punishment and fine for any one of us that spoke of Hunter business to someone outside the Hunter organization. I held my tongue. I didn’t feel the need to tell this guy about the only thing left in my life that I cared about.
“Administrative assistant. For an attorney.” That sounded good. It was either that or school teacher. And I knew I didn’t come off as a school teacher. I could tell this guy wanted an assistant, not someone who could teach him something.
The end game for both of us was him and I horizontal and naked. The next question he would ask would probably be along the lines of, “Wanna screw?” I had done this dance enough times to know the next step and when to dip.
I knew his mind set and where his mind was headed after the profession I gave him: me in a tight black pencil skirt and button down blouse, undone to see the swell of my breasts, my hair up in a tight bun. My glasses low on my nose, leaning over his desk – my boobs on display for his pleasure alone.
“You wanna come back to my place? For a drink.” He had added that last part quickly. Bingo. Anything to numb this constant gaping pain in my chest.
The reason I needed the numbness at all was that I, as I am known to do, stepped over a line that should have never been approached, let alone crossed. I didn’t just step over the line either. I blasted through it like a bull running toward a red cape. However, looking back, I would have done it a million times over for the happiness and love I had in my life. For the short time it had been there. But I had ended it. As a result, I don’t really live now. I just drift through a meaningless existence of one night stands, pain and hollowness.
I suppose you could say I was being selfish when I dropped the love of my life like a bag of bad fish and, in a way, I was. I couldn’t stand the thought of either of us dying because of our relationship. So I had broken up with him to keep him safe, and me as well, at least my physical self.
Emotionally, I was a terrorist bomb. One where the ingredients had been found on
line and you were only kind of sure the right ingredients were there…unstable and extremely dangerous. I know you think I’m being dramatic. And I most definitely can be, but not this time.
Everything in my life had disintegrated into a fading Polaroid; a photo of us smiling and happy, one that was nothing more than a yellowish tinge of the vibrant colors it had once been.
Now, back to the anesthetizing.
“I don’t know…” I couldn’t just say yes, that would’ve made me look like a slut.
“It’s one drink, come on.” Yeah right, just a drink. He batted his eyelashes at me and I stifled a laugh. What a girl.
“Alright. One drink.”
One fuck, one night of freedom from my invisible hell.
He waved down the next waitress that walked by to get the check. He paid cash and left a nice tip. Normally a guy like him didn’t. I was a little thrown off by it, but he was probably just trying to impress me. It didn’t work. This guy couldn’t buy my respect. But that didn’t mean he still wasn’t what I needed.
We were out the door and down the road a few minutes later. He hailed a cab and took me toward wherever we were going to fuck. We pulled up to an apartment building and it was not what I was expecting. It was a barely standing, shithole apartment building not far away from where I did the majority of my hunting. Demons were my specialty and this was their stomping ground.
A doctor, like this guy, wouldn’t live here even if it was an on-the-side fuck-pad for him. When the cab pulled up to the curb, I cautiously stepped out of the car and pulled out my hand mirror acting like I was fixing my makeup, trying to stall and making a play toward innocence. There was no way he was getting me upstairs. I knew plenty of hiding spots in this area.
He turned back to me when he realized I wasn’t walking next to him and said:
“You coming?”
No.
“I just remembered I have an early morning meeting. Wanna come to my place instead?” Where I have all my weapons?
“We’re already here, just come up for a minute.”
I focused fully on this “person” in front of me, dropping my protection shield that had been firmly in place for some time now, to find out how hard it would be to kill this asshole with what little amount of equipment I had on me. A sick twisting of my stomach followed. It felt as though I had chugged a bottle of laundry detergent. I had been next to this guy more than once, and for an extensive period of time. I should have had a feeling, an inkling, something, even without focusing. But, no, because I wanted to be numb, I let myself be prey.
The Demons had six levels of hierarchy. The bottom three (six, five and four) were minions and not that big of a deal. The next two (three and two) were strong and hard to kill. The top tier of Demons was impossible to kill and included the Devil (aka Mastema) himself.
This Demon was strong, if I had to guess a tier three, which meant I couldn’t kill him with what I had on me. Injure, yes. But he’d kill me before I could get away from him. I backed up just one step.
I always kept weapons on me, even in the skimpiest of outfits, which is what I was wearing now. I dug and drug my boot heel into the hard concrete sidewalk until I heard it click and the knife engraved with my Hunter symbol popped out of the heel.
Each Hunter had a different symbol. Mine’s a pentagram lined in red with wings coming out of the sides. The pentagram, entwined with ivy. Every Hunter’s symbol has an element of spirit, blood and earth. The engravings were to track our kills and to protect us. Even Hunters answered to higher ups.
There were rogues, of course, but I was not one of them. They wouldn’t let me in their club. If they had, my life would be a lot different.
“Walk away and I’ll let you live.” For now. The pretenses he had been holding up were gone and coldness had seeped into every one of his pores.
“This isn’t about me. He wants to see you.” Dear God. I prayed to whatever higher, lower and middle power there was that he wasn’t talking about who I thought he was.
I hadn’t seen him in 6 months, 6 days and, as I looked at my watch, 6 hours. Oh, ha, fucking, ha. He would time it exactly that way. Payback really was a bitch.
“What’s my likelihood of getting you to just walk away? I’ll let you live, seriously.” Because the Demon had probably figured out by now that my first offer had been an empty one. “I’ll even give you a box of chocolate.” I was down to giving anything. Almost.
“You know he’ll kill me or send me back to the pit if I don’t deliver. I’ll take my chances with you over him. He said bring you. I’m bringing you. I was going to fuck you first, but you won’t go for that now, will you?”
There was actually hope in his voice. First of all, my Demon would’ve killed this one if he tried to fuck me first. I knew it was an empty question. He took a few menacing steps toward me. While I knew some of his threats were empty I knew not all of them were, one way or another he was going to take me.
He must’ve sensed that my little knife didn’t stand a chance against him. I could take out a lower level Demon with it, maybe, but not this one. He was too strong. If only I had my weapon bag.
Right now I would rather die than see the disdainful look on the face of the only man I’d ever loved. He had to hate me. I could face down a slew of Demons, Vamps, Fey, Drovers, even my Father – but not him. I could look into anyone’s eyes but his.
Please, please, please, let this work.
I slowly slipped off my boots one at a time. I did this strategically, hoping to distract the Demon. He looked confused and stopped walking toward me. I tried making a sexy face and the look of unease melted away from his face.
I did this for three reasons: 1) The boots I was wearing were knee-high boots, high heeled, and I needed them off so I could get my feet under me to run. 2) I knew Demons were inherently lustful creatures. I also knew I wasn’t hard on the eyes. I was taller than most women, standing at 5’10” with raven black hair, light blue eyes with curves and legs that, I was told on good authority, wouldn’t quit. And I used that to my advantage in certain situations. Much like the one I was in now. And 3.) I knew to play on his hope of getting laid.
As I slid my hands up my thigh under the skirt of my short dress, I heard his intake of breath. The look on his face proved I had reeled him in – time for the kill. I slipped my underwear off and threw them at his face. They landed directly over his eyes, right on target. Damn I was good. Time to go.
I turned and ran for my life, for my sanity. I was so fucked up in the head right now, if I saw my Demon again, I knew I would lose it. I would lose all the numbness I had shoved over the pain that was left after I walked out on us. After I turned my back on us because I had to. I was not given a choice, not really. I was an imposter amongst honest knights with the Hunters.
The Hunters viewed themselves as avenging Angels and maybe some Hunters were. But not me. I was your normal, amazingly skilled, fucked-up Hunter. Good at what I did, but not an Angel by any means. I was given my choices by one of the Hunter’s council members six months ago. He also happened to be one of my best friends.
“Either you walk away from us, from your family, your friends – everything you know and love. Or you walk away from him.”
Caden hadn’t been completely accurate on the everything you know and love part – I loved my Demon above almost all else.
Cade, as we called him, had been my best friend since childhood, and I loved him in a brotherly way. We had grown up together, along with Aniese. Anie, for short, was an orphan who had been raised by my Father and the Hunter organization, like all of us. We were all raised partly by our parents, partly by the Hunters and partly by experience. Cade, Anie and I were known as the three amigos. I used to jokingly do The Three Amigo’s salute, but no one found it as funny as I did. I once got both Anie and Cade to do it with me, but it’s because they lost a bet.
We had done everything together. When we were old enough everyone razzed Cade for not “getting with
” Anie or I. There had just never been that sort of an attraction between any of us. Anie and I spent a lot of time with Cade at his house with his parents. It was easier than having to deal with the asshole that was my Father. Anie never wanted to go against my Father and I always did. We met in the middle at times like that and hung at Cade’s with his family instead of dealing with the contention that dealing with my Father always birthed.
Cade being the ambitious person he was had moved quickly up the ranks of the Hunters and now sat as the youngest of the council members. He was also best buds with the “loose cannon, who also happens to be one of the best Hunters”, that would be me. Cade had read aloud to me that part of my file, the profiles that the Hunters kept on each one of us. It was supposed to support his stance that leaving him, my Demon, would be the right choice. I was kept because I was good, not because I was stable.
Case in point, my love affair with a Demon. It had been buzzed about for as long as it had gone on: 3 years, 3 months, 3 hours. That’s why, I’m assuming, he had paid me back in kind with the 6,6,6 joke. I was trying to make a firm statement. He was being a dick.
I made sure my Demon knew where I stood. What I was choosing. At least, I tried. I cut all ties with him. It’s the only way I could do it. I’m an all or nothing kind of girl.
I chose what I knew over the Demon I loved. And what I knew is that if either side found out about us we would both be strung up and killed. My Father did not tolerate such relationships and the Demons definitely didn’t.
When we had been together I justified it, saying he did good work, and he did. I loved him in spite of his flaws and because of them. But in the end, I had fallen so far in with him that I couldn’t justify losing him completely, to never have the chance of seeing him, touching him, loving him …I couldn’t lose him permanently. I just couldn’t.
Some people go through life knowing they are loved. Love had never been one of those things handed to me in life. I had worked very hard over the years for my Father’s and the Hunters’ love and only receiving it if I performed exceptionally well.
Demons: A Hunter's Novel, Book 1 Page 1
