The Ghost Hunter, a Paranormal Romance (The Hunter Series)

by Lori Brighton

  “We’ll need a witch in case we have to do a spell,” Devon said.

  Camile smiled, but it was a halfhearted smile. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Camile and Devon will stay behind in case…” Cristian explained. In case he and Ashley were killed, although he didn’t dare say that out loud. Human’s tended to overreact when they realized they might die. Not that they didn’t know. Hell, he could see the fear lingering in the backdrops of their wide eyes…constantly worried. “Let’s go then.”

  Cristian moved to the door before someone came to their senses and ran the hell out of there.

  “No! Wait!” Ashley cried out.

  Shite. Too late. With a sigh, he turned. “What?”

  “It will throw you, if you touch it. The door.”

  So she wasn’t thinking of running, merely warning him. An odd lump of emotion settled in his chest, something he didn’t have time to dwell on at the moment. “Glad to see you care.” He pressed his palm to the symbol. The door made a weird groaning noise, then popped open just an inch.

  “I closed it, only I can open it.” He pushed the door further open, the hinges squeaking in protest. His heart slammed against his ribcage as he looked down that dark tunnel, the stones glistening under the low light coming from the basement. His nightmare. Even though she didn’t touch him, he felt Ashley tremble. Her nightmare as well.

  “Ye can do this, Ashley.” She didn’t look at him, her gaze pinned to that tunnel, but she did manage to give him a quick nod.

  He went in first, crossing that threshold he hadn’t been through in years. He didn’t know what he expected to feel the moment his feet hit the stone corridor. But he wasn’t supposed to feel, was he? Human’s felt, it was their downfall. He was a warrior with a job to do and nothing was supposed to stand in his way. Not ghosts pleading their cases, not his own father, and certainly not a woman. Yet, here he was watching her, instead of watching the tunnel ahead. Before he’d met Ashley death had been welcome. Now… now the thought of dying felt too much like leaving this world… leaving her.

  “Ashley.” Cristian gripped her upper arms, forcing her to look at him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She nodded again, her gaze taking on a hard look of determination. “Let’s get this over with.”

  There she was, the kickass woman he’d come to admire. Cristian held out his hand, palm up. A glowing orb of fire burst to life.

  Ashley quirked a brow. “Well that’s new.”

  “We can command the basics: fire, water, wind, rain.”

  The fireball lifted from his palm and floated ahead of them, lighting the way. “Let’s go.”

  The rock walls sparkled with condensation. He knew every inch of this space, had memorized it that fateful night when he’d been forced to kill his own father. He knew they were slowly going downward although you could barely feel the descent. He knew the tunnel would flare left ahead. He knew beyond that bend, the ceiling was so low he’d have to duck.

  “Remember to show no fear. He feeds on fear,” he said.

  The floor sloped, taking them further and further into the darkness, into the earth, into the pit of hell. Cristian’s fireball bounced in front of them, merrily leading the way, the only spot of brightness in the dreary corridor.

  “Was it really a church?” Ashley whispered, interrupting the sound of dripping condensation.

  “Yes,” he replied. “It was the safest place to contain him. The strongest.”

  “And my father?”

  “He’s in there, bound to the demon. When I release the vault, they’ll both be released as spirits.”

  The demon. Not his father, but the demon. When had he stopped calling him Father? The day he’d realized the man was no honorable warrior. The day he’d realized that they had been sent to earth, punished, because of angels like good ole’ dad. They turned the corner. It would only be a matter of moments now.

  “He’ll try to get into yer head. He’ll try to trick ye. He’ll try whatever it takes to frighten ye. Don’t let him.”

  “You can’t be—”

  “Shhh.” Cristian held up his hand and paused.

  The tunnel flared into a wide room of glistening gray stone. From somewhere water dripped…dripped….dripped. The fireball swept upward, highlighting paintings of angels on a domed ceiling. The place was beautiful, stunning, but there were no pews in this church. Merely a large circular room with a rectangular stone container in the middle of the floor.

  Cristian’s pulse pounded in his ears, thundering so loudly that he was sure the sound would echo against the walls. Only he had known what that stone container held. It was a plain coffin with a gold cross upon the lid. Silence settled heavy into the room, yet behind that silence was an odd sort of buzz in the air…like an electrical current.

  “They’re in there,” Ashley whispered.

  It was more of a statement than a question. She knew the answer. The room practically vibrated with energy, an energy that hummed through his body, an energy that was coming from that coffin. She felt it too.

  Cristian didn’t respond, merely held out his arm. His sword appeared in hand, the weight reassuring. Finally, he looked her way, reminding her that she was not merely a voyeur, but a player in this recital. “Ready?”

  She took in a deep, shaky breath and nodded.

  He didn’t pause, he wouldn’t give her time to rethink. Grasping the hilt with both hands, Cristian lifted his sword high. The blade flashed eerily under the light of the fireball above. With a cry more animalistic than human, he shoved the point of the blade into the middle of the cross. The sword easily pierced the stone, sliding through the gold and granite like a hot knife through butter. For a split second nothing happened.

  A low creaking moan vibrated the room, making the floor tremble. Ashley stumbled, falling off balance and slamming into a wall. Hell was breaking loose.

  Gritting his teeth, Cristian yanked the sword from the lid.

  A jagged line cracked up and down the coffin, separating the stone in two.

  Suddenly, a brilliant blue light burst from the lid, dancing around the room in soft waves and highlighting the paintings above in an eerie glow. It was starting.

  “Do ye see anything?” Cristian demanded.

  Ashley glanced frantically around the room, then shook her head. Before he could question her further, golden particles streamed from the crack in the coffin, swirling up on a beam of pure light. Stunning, but he knew it was a ruse, something conjured by dear old dad to put them at ease.

  “It’s beautiful,” Ashley whispered, stepping forward.

  “Stay back,” Cristian demanded.

  A sudden murmur of words whispered through the room, words Cristian couldn’t understand. A spirit speaking. He narrowed his eyes, his pulsing beating fiercely. Come on, ye bloody bastard, show yourself.

  Ashley inched closer to the coffin. “Dad?”

  Cristian reached out, grasping onto her upper arm and halting her progress. “Do ye see him?”

  She shook her head, her gaze flickering with confusion. “I heard his voice. He said my name.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.” She was staring at the ceiling, her brows drawn together in confusion. “Around us. I can’t pinpoint the location. Cristian, is it him or is it your father tricking us?” There was a plea he couldn’t ignore in her voice. She was praying it was her father.

  “I don’t know.” He released her arm and shifted his fingers around the hilt of his sword, his piercing eyes scanning the room and searching for an enemy he couldn’t see.

  The golden particles drew together and a human shape emerged in the blue light. Ashley sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Daddy?” she whispered.

  His instincts told him it was, indeed, her father. “What’d he say?” Cristian demanded.

  She turned wide, startled eyes toward him. “Run.”

  The word might have stunned her, but not him. Cris
tian shoved her behind his back, using his body to shield her. Red light burst from the coffin, exploding around them in heated waves. He felt Ashley stumble off balance, but couldn’t get to her in time. The stone lid fell to the side with a crash that vibrated the floor and sent loose pebbles pattering to the ground.

  “Daddy!” Ashley cried out, jumping to her feet.

  Cristian shifted his sword back and forth between his hands. “We can’t leave,” he said, hoping Ashley wasn’t preparing to flee. “Rose and the town have bonded the area. It will be hard for him tae escape. We have tae destroy him now.”

  This was their one chance to kill the demon. They couldn’t run, no matter how desperately her father wanted them to.

  “I’m not leaving without my father,” she said with such determination he actually believed her.

  The red light pulsed through the room, vibrant, harsh, hissing across his skin. Their nightmare come to life. A cold sweat broke out between his shoulder blades. He could do nothing but stand there and wait for dear old demon dad to make his appearance known.

  “Coome on ye bloody bastard,” Cristian muttered, pacing the area, his gaze taking in every shadow, every corner.

  An evil chuckle rumbled through the room, shaking the stone walls. The sound swept around Cristian, curling inside him like a snake about to spring. “Welcome home, Da.”

  The fun was about to begin.

  ********

  Suddenly, the room erupted, exploding around Ashley. Small pieces of rock pelted her arms and face. That red light exploded, sending her blindingly backward. Ashley’s shoulder blades hit a wall. Crying out, she slumped to the floor. Her t-shirt lifted and her skin scraped against the rough stone.

  The numbness of shock immediately gave way to pain. Like lightning, the agony branched through her body, throbbing in time with her heart. As the silence settled and her aching body faded to numb, she hesitantly lifted her lashes. Unfamiliar darkness surrounded her. Where was she?

  From the blackness, gray shapes emerged. Walls running left and right. She was no longer in the large cathedral room, but in a corridor of sorts. She tucked her legs underneath her and pushed her palms into the floor. Slowly, she stood. Her mind spun with the movement, her stomach clenching. Reluctantly, she leaned back against the wall. Something warm and wet trailed down her forehead to her lips. It tasted metallic and salty.

  Blood, she realized.

  Her own blood.

  “Cristian?” she whispered.

  No response came.

  Fear sent her pulse racing. No. She hadn’t agreed to this! She hadn’t agreed to being lost down here alone. She could hear nothing but the soft patter of dripping water. No evil laughter, no Cristian, no Dad. Nothing. She was completely alone.

  Panic and anger mixed, chilling her insides. She pressed her hands along the damp wall, shuffling forward as much as her trembling legs would allow.

  The tunnel turned, branching into three dark pits. Ashley paused in indecision. Which one to take? Damn it, where was Cristian when she needed him? Dare she call out? She had to do something, she wouldn’t stand here waiting for the thing to attack.

  She turned, parting her lips to call when from the darkness a soft, white glow pulsed, then faded, so she thought she had imagined it. “Dad?”

  The white light flared to life once more. Ashley froze, daring to hope. The soft glow came closer…closer…morphing into a blue orb that made her knees weak. She sank against the wall in relief.

  “Dad?” she whispered.

  The ball of light paused, hovering just out of reach in front of her. Slowly, just as before, a human shape began to emerge. A familiar, tall, lanky shape. Hope welled within, sweet and tempting.

  “Dad?” She started hesitantly forward.

  “Ashley,” he whispered and in those ghostly eyes, she saw his sorrow, his terror, but what worried her the most was the hopelessness. She froze. He knew they were all going to die. Perhaps deep down, she knew as well.

  Her legs trembled. “Dad?”

  His color changed to yellow, then orange. Her pulse missed a beat. Ashley stepped back. The orange flared…richer…darker... Her father’s face contorted, grimacing as if in pain. Ashley fell back against the stone wall. The demon had found her again.

  She shook her head, denying what was to come. She wasn’t supposed to fight the demon alone. “Cristian!”

  Red light burst around her. Ashley raised her arms, covering her face instinctively. The light was warm, whispering over her skin and raising the fine hairs on her body. Just as quickly as it had come, the sizzle faded and silence settled. Ashley’s mouth went dry. She didn’t want to look, she didn’t want to know what was in front of her. She wanted to keep her eyes closed and pretend like this was just a dream.

  “Hello, my luv. So glad ye’ve been waiting fer me.”

  Slowly, she lowered her arms. A tall man stood only feet from her, his face foreign, yet somehow familiar. Square jaw, dark hair, gray eyes. Handsome, if she hadn’t known what he was capable of. The demon’s lips lifted into a glowing smile. He didn’t move, didn’t bat an eye lash, but suddenly, she was slammed against the wall. Her lungs seemed to collapse inside her chest, her throat constricting as the air was sucked from her body. Anger pulsed under her skin. She would not die here in this tunnel underground, pinned to the wall like a bug on cardboard.

  “So innocent,” he said softly. “So weak. Yer father is much harder tae control. Nothing against ye, my dear, I merely need ye gone before ye gain control of yer powers. Out of the way while yer still too weak to fight.”

  Her confidence wavered. He was right. She was weak. A pathetic human against a world of monsters. She’d never had a chance.

  As quickly as she’d been pinned to the wall, the pressure disappeared. She slumped to the floor, her palms and knees hitting stone. Without looking into his smirking face, she knew that he was toying with her. He wanted her to run.

  She’d oblige.

  Ashley scrambled to her feet and spun around. She froze. Lining the walls, glowing eerily under his red light, were rows and rows of skulls.

  Chapter 33

  “A catacombs,” the demon whispered from directly behind her.

  Ashley started trembling. She didn’t dare turn around. She couldn’t look at him or she might give in altogether.

  “Did ye not realize? Yer home is built on a catacombs.” A soft chuckle followed his declaration. She knew he was trying to scare her further, and it was working.

  “Will make it easy tae dispose of yer body.”

  Her insides chilled. She knew she wouldn’t make it. She knew he’d kill her before she ran two full steps. Still, instinct and self preservation forced her to try. With a groan, she burst down the tunnel. His heated breath pulsed against her neck, directly behind her, constantly directly behind her no matter how fast she ran. She pushed her legs to run further, harder, but the heat didn’t fade. He was around her, surrounding her, practically inside of her.

  She ran until the shelves of skulls tapered off, until her lungs burned with the need to breathe. How badly she wanted to look back. She didn’t dare. Her body grew numb, her lungs shrinking painfully. Exhausted, her knees bent and her weak legs gave out.

  With a cry, she stumbled, falling. She hit the stone floor with a thud that vibrated up her vertebrae. Immediately, she rolled to her back, pushing up on her elbows. The demon hovered over her as if he’d been there all along, his red aura pulsing in the dark like the sign from a seedy motel.

  “Pathetic,” he murmured softly, almost crooning. “Weak and pathetic. Perhaps ye could have been something, if given the chance. If ye’d taken the chance. But ye didn’t, did ye? Always hiding from yer powers, always denying yer strengths. And now, this is what ye’ve become.”

  How did he know that she’d hidden from her abilities? Could he read minds, or had he drained the information from her father’s memories? She rolled onto her back and glared up at him. “Fuck you.”

&
nbsp; Suddenly, she slammed back against the wall. A cry escaped her lips, her skull cracking against the stone. Darkness taunted the corners of her vision. Without standing, she was drawn upward. She gritted her teeth to keep from yelling out.

  He floated forward, his head tilted to the side as if studying her. He was a visitor at a museum of oddities. He reached out, dragging his knuckles across her cheek. An electric current, much like a shock, coursed over her skin. She cringed, sucking in a sharp breath.

  “I knew he’d release me eventually, ye see. I was merely waiting…drawing power from yer father, from the ghosts. Stupid lad, I’m almost embarrassed he’s my son.”

  Her arms flung back of their own accord, pinned against the wall by invisible manacles. Ashley was scared. Terrified of dying. Terrified of the pain she knew would come. And this spirit, this fallen angel, was going to torture her. But she’d be damned if she’d beg for mercy.

  “But my son is a different matter indeed. Ye, my dear, yes, ye are exactly what I need.” He moved closer, so close the coldness of his spirit form sent chills over her body. She kept her face calm, even as sweat trailed down her temples. She would not react to the monster. Would not react to the very man who looked so much like Cristian, it made her heart ache.

  A sharp pain pierced her skull. She cried out as the pain shot down her limbs, burning her insides. His face turned from smirking to bemused. He floated back a step, his dark brows drawing together. The pain in her body dissipated. Suddenly, he was close again and that pain sliced through her head. She gritted her teeth, tears stinging her eyes.

  He floated back, gasping. “Ye,” he whispered, as if she’d done something wrong. But he didn’t look furious. No, instead he tilted his head back and started laughing deep, rich chuckles of mirth.

  Sweat beaded on Ashley’s forehead, her breath coming out in harsh pants as she tried to comprehend the situation. Why wasn’t she dead yet? Not that she was complaining.