The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-3 (Nava Katz Box Set)

by Deborah Wilde

I beeped the fob at my car to unlock it, my fingers squeezed tight around the plastic. “Au contraire, Rohan, you have no role in Nava-land anymore.”

  He didn’t react. “Why are you in scrubs?”

  “I was pursuing a lead with the serial killer demon.” I let out a stuttery breath.

  Rohan jumped off the hood. “Hey.” He lay his hand on my shoulder. “What happened?”

  “Corpse. Unnerving. Go figure.” I traced the rough edge of my fake employee ID.

  “Was this your first dead body?”

  “Yeah. Does it get easier?” Please tell me it gets easier.

  He nodded. “But you’ll never forget this one. Every detail down to where you were standing when you saw it.” He skimmed his hand along my back. “You shouldn’t have had to face that alone. Or unprepared.”

  I blinked away the tears pooling in my eyes, refusing to break down. “Get me a coffee and I’ll be good to go.”

  Three figures stepped out from between two minivans to circle us. “Wallets,” the leader demanded.

  Baggy jeans, hoodies, shaved heads, and dull stares, the trio were the Huey, Dewey, and Louie of thug life. They were exactly what I needed to shake off the past hour.

  “In my car.” I bounced on my toes.

  “Put the bloodlust away,” Rohan murmured. He turned to the thugs and held up his wallet. “You want this? It is pretty flush with cash, but no can do, dude. This lovely lady needs a coffee and I need money to buy it for her.”

  “Such a gentleman.” I stepped away from the thug leering at me.

  “We’ll take the lady, too.” The leader jerked his head at Sir Leers-A-Lot, who grabbed my arm.

  I broke his hold, then broke his nose. Big thanks to Baruch for teaching me how to keep from telegraphing my moves because damn, had I taken him by surprise. I fist pumped.

  The thug stumbled back, his hand failing to contain the blood spurting from his big honker. “Bitch.”

  He didn’t unleash his inner demon which meant these were human assailants. Oh well.

  Rohan tossed his wallet up in the air, catching it one-handed. “I’d say that’s a no.”

  “You’ll fucking pay for that,” the thug said. The three pulled out switchblades, flicking them open in synch like they practiced.

  Rohan snorted. “Those are barely knives.”

  “Boys and their blades,” I said, sliding onto the hood of my car to watch the show. I prodded my knuckle. That was gonna swell.

  “Not gonna play?” Rohan asked.

  “Nope.” Breaking the guy’s nose had improved my mood considerably. I examined my fingernails. “Show me what you’ve got to offer, partner.” This wasn’t me relenting; I just wanted to watch Rohan fight. “I’m the helpless female that needs protecting.”

  “Role playing, are we?”

  I tried to hide my grin, but Rohan caught it, winked, and beckoned the asshats forward.

  A minute later it was over. The crook with the broken nose now also sported a badly broken arm. The second guy had run off after Rohan stabbed him in the thigh with his own switchblade, and Rohan had the leader in a chokehold. He applied more pressure and the leader crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

  Rohan slapped the last thug standing across the head with his wallet. “Get lost.”

  The thug hesitated.

  Rohan broke his other arm. Howling, he ran off the way his friend had. Rohan pocketed his wallet.

  I jumped off the hood. “Not so fast. You’re buying me coffee.”

  “I saved your life at great risk to my own. You’re buying.”

  “Get real.” Ripping off the lanyard, I slid into my seat and started the car.

  Rohan didn’t speak again until we were at a twenty-four hour Starbucks drive-through, halfway to our next destination. He reached across me to hand the money to the cashier. I closed my eyes briefly, inhaling his signature scent of his iron blades cut with a spicy musk. My tension melting away as essence of Rohan curled inside me.

  “Where are we headed?”

  I handed over his disgusting black coffee, taking a generous sip of my mocha latte with extra whip before setting it in the cupholder. “You can go find a rock to slither back under. I’ve got a cranky old man to delight with my presence.” Harry had never phoned me back but Leo had had his home address in her contacts and I may have taken that, too.

  Rohan frowned. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Very astute.” I patted his cheek. “I don’t require as much beauty sleep as some.”

  He caught my hand, biting gently into the fleshy part of my palm. “Beauty sleep for this body would be too much of a good thing.”

  I pulled my hand away, changing the cheesy love song playing on the stereo.

  A Blur song started up, Rohan bobbing his head along with the beat before launching into a falsetto “whoo hoo” along with the singer. I laughed and he met my eyes with a half-grin. The private one he only ever trained on me, then a full smile emerged, almost like it had burst out of its own accord.

  Fizzy heart-shaped bubbles danced in my chest, pouring forth fast and furious, no matter how much I mentally whack-a-moled the bastards into oblivion. I was pretty sure I was still sitting up straight despite all my atoms listing sideways toward him with a magnetic pull, but I checked my alignment to make sure.

  I wrenched the wheel and pulled into a spot outside Harry’s new place, a war-era bungalow on the east side, sending Rohan careening against the passenger door. “We’re here.”

  I didn’t bother checking if he would follow me, because when had he ever done otherwise, and also because of each steady footfall behind me.

  I leaned on the bell until Harry answered, bleary-eyed, his white hair sticking up every which way.

  He was a vision in plaid, from his pajamas peeking out under his robe, to the blanket slung over his bony shoulders. A lit cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth.

  At the sight of me, he took a deep pull on the cigarette, exhaling a thick white column of smoke into the frosty night sky. “My lack of a response was supposed to be a clue. What’s with the scrubs?”

  “I’m a ministering angel,” I said.

  Harry flicked a gaze over Rohan. “Who are you? The sidekick?”

  Rohan’s incredulity was a beautiful thing.

  I put my hand on the door. “Let us in. I’ve got a job for you.”

  Harry shifted to block my entrance. “You can’t afford me.”

  “Sidekick,” Rohan grumbled.

  I shot him a “move on” look and pulled the cash from Ms. Clara out of my pocket.

  Harry slowly and deliberately closed the door.

  I shoved my body between the door and the frame before it was half-shut, fanning away his disgusting smoke. “Help me because this could have ramifications for Leo.”

  Harry gave me a hard look, then stepped aside. “Five minutes.”

  His old place had been tatty: yellowed clippings of UFO sightings on the walls and ceiling, UFO models on every available surface, outdated and worn furniture, and the stench of decades-old cigarette smoke baked into every particle.

  This place had white walls, new furniture, and no UFOs. “Aw, Harry.”

  His gaze shuttered. “What’s the job?” He eased into his newish leather recliner.

  I held out the money. “Take it. That way you’re on retainer and bound by confidentiality rules.”

  “I’m not bound by anything I don’t want to be bound by, missy,” Harry said, snatching the money from my hand. He thumbed the bills. “It’s a start.”

  “It’s plenty.” Rohan’s tone was deceptively mild.

  Harry was no fool. He gave a snarky nod.

  I told Harry all about the gogota attack in Prague and the metal spine that had been left behind that I was hiring him to find.

  “I’m not hearing how this impacts Leo,” Harry said.

  “It might be how demons are bound,” Rohan said.

  Harry whistled. “Someone want
s to force demons to do their bidding?” His expression changed from cantankerous old man to a shrewd conniver who’d seen far too much for his years. “I’ve got a dealer who, well, let’s just say if it can be found, Baskerville’ll find it. Got a nose for black market items, especially ones purported to be occult.”

  “Great.” I stood up.

  “Not so fast,” Harry said. “You and Boy Wonder here need to do something.”

  I’m not whose self-control was more commendable: Rohan’s for not stabbing Harry the way he so clearly wanted to, or mine for not laughing. Okay, it was totally Rohan’s. My snorting coughs weren’t fooling anyone.

  “Baskerville isn’t going to help you without something in return,” Harry said.

  “I’ll pay him.” I’d get the money somehow.

  “Cash won’t cut it. There is a trinket, however, that will. A dog collar. Go get it.”

  “Why can’t you?” I asked. “The three hundred should cover you doing that.”

  “I don’t like the dog that has it.” He readjusted the blanket around his shoulders.

  “Fine.”

  “Watch out,” he said, scribbling down the address, “the dog senses fear.” With that he practically manhandled us out the door.

  Rohan raised his eyebrows. “Asking for help? What an idea.”

  “Isn’t it?” I jogged down the front stairs.

  Rohan grabbed me around the waist before I reached the car, swinging me around. “Not the sidekick,” he insisted. I giggled and sang the Batman theme at him. He pretended to drop me. “Take it back.”

  “I’m Batman,” I said in a growly voice.

  “You suck.” He set me back on the ground.

  “You must have something better to do than come with me,” I said, unlocking the car. Like pack.

  “Nope. I’m off active duty for a while after that last mission.” Yawning, Rohan slumped in his seat and took a sip of his now-cold coffee. “Can we skip ahead to you accepting that I’m working with you on this?”

  No, we could not, but forcibly removing the lunkhead from my car would take more energy than I had. “If you have dog allergies or anything, say something–”

  He twirled his finger in a “get on with it” motion.

  “Awesome.”

  11

  If there was anything of value in the abandoned warehouse that Harry had sent us to in the industrial area outside the city, then demons had to be involved. A misty haze draped the sunrise like a net. The air was cold, dank, and stank of open sewer.

  The left third of the desolate single-story building was unfinished and missing most of its roof. Broken scaffolding drooped, in contrast to the concrete exterior tagged in colorful graffiti, including over the bricked-up window frames. Greenish-black ribbons of mildew ran riot over the concrete.

  A dented metal sign proclaimed the premises patrolled by a guard dog.

  The wind bit at my skin and I pulled my coat tighter around me.

  We checked the perimeter for any hostiles. A couple of white rats with rheumy eyes and abscesses mottling their patchy fur haunted the nearby makeshift garbage dump, overflowing with plastic bags, stained mattresses, and broken furniture. Otherwise, the area was clear, but we still approached the front door with caution. Why this place necessitated a guard dog given the exposed walls and lack of a front door was a mystery.

  A fluff of a white dog with a pink ribbon tied at the end of its cute braided tail jumped out from the shadows, barking furiously. Yippy little thing. Around its neck was a matching pink leather collar with a sparkly pink stone. The only thing that could have made it less scary was if its toenails had also been painted pink. It was totally a demon.

  I knelt down. “Come here, evil mop.”

  The dog growled. The same “arr-ruff” sound I used to have my black panther stuffie Sebastian make when I was kid.

  I wasn’t a demon dog person at the best of times. “Get over here.” I lunged for it but it bounded off, leading Rohan and I on a merry chase through the trash-strewn warehouse. After many frustrating minutes, we managed to corner it.

  “All right, mutt–” I jumped back as the dog snapped at my fingers.

  Rohan nudged me aside and knelt down, his hand outstretched. “Who’s a good dog?” he cooed, edging closer until he was able to scratch it under the chin.

  The demon’s growls changed to happy yips as it licked Rohan with near-ecstatic fervor.

  “It’s a she, isn’t it?” I said. Rohan smirked. “Just get the collar.”

  “Already on–”

  The room swung sideways with a sickening snap, and from one blink to the next, the warehouse disappeared, replaced by jungle.

  “Is this an illusion or have we been portalled somewhere?” I asked.

  The air was rich with rot and a heavy lushness. Twisted trees in a million shades of green jutted up from the ground, their gnarled roots protruding from the dark soil.

  I tied my coat around my waist, a hot moist breeze washing over me.

  “Illusion.” Rohan did the same with his leather jacket. “The dog was a cù-sith.”

  Now Harry’s warning was made sense. This particular type of demon dog would feed our fears to us before going for our souls. I scrunched my head into my neck, keeping my mind utterly blank. “You didn’t think to give me a heads-up it was mega hellhound level evil?”

  Rohan steered me around a wide patch of mud. “No point. We need the collar. Like you said, this business could have consequences for Leo. If anyone has figured out how to bind demons we’ve got to put a stop to it.”

  Rohan was supposed to be providing a myriad of reasons why I wanted him gone. Not this. “You are such an asshole.”

  Rohan blinked at me. “Because I don’t want Leo hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right. What a dick.”

  I refused to laugh at his wry tone. “Be verwy, verwy quiwet. We’re hunting demons.”

  Rohan let out a bang-on impression of Elmer Fudd’s stuttering laugh. Double asshole. He tilted his face up to the sunlight filtering through the tree canopy, sighing in delight.

  “Probably nice and hot in Los Angeles this time of year.”

  He cut me a sideways look loaded with disapproval.

  “What about your family? Your friends? Don’t you miss them?” I jumped a rotted log.

  “I have friends all over the world.”

  “Great. Go visit them.”

  “I’m here until we find the spine. Deal with it.”

  “Look, I may be biased against the Brotherhood,” I said. Rohan snorted. “But the rest of you have dedicated your lives to this organization. How much is that going to temper your need for answers? Or affect your actions if you can’t reconcile your loyalties with whatever we find out?”

  “It won’t.”

  “God, you’re infuriating.”

  He gave a small smile, his eyes constantly scanning, keenly assessing our environment. “You’ve rubbed off on me.”

  “No, that’s all innately you.” I sidestepped a leafy fern, unseen birds and monkeys calling out overhead.

  We crashed through a dense press of trees and stopped. Before us lay a stone temple in the process of being reclaimed by jungle. The uneven, rust-colored flagstones were rough and pocketed with spongy patches of dark-green moss.

  A bird screeched overhead.

  “Why are we in Raiders of the Lost Ark?” Rohan said. “I barely remember the movie, much less was scared by it. You?”

  “Nope. It’s one of my faves.” Repeated viewings with my dad was one of my happiest times with him. I pushed a sweaty curl out of my eyes. “How are you with spiders?”

  “Why is that a question?”

  “Replete-with-tarantulas-assistant, dude. If he shows up, you get to deal with him.”

  “Don’t even joke about anything you’re scared of. Put it out of your head.”

  We walked up to the open doorway, our footprints in the thick layer of dust as clear as tracks in
the snow. Flaming torches cast flickering tongues of light, the corners falling off to cobwebbed shadows. It was just bright enough to see the row of bolt holes indicative of arrow traps for those foolhardy enough to cross the floor.

  Stairs lead to a huge stone dais at the front of the cavern. Light glinted off the pink dog collar, now positioned on top of a boulder at the back of the dais. A plethora of deadly arrows waiting to be fired stood between it and us.

  I toed at some dirt on the flagstones. “Thoughts on surviving the arrows?”

  Rohan studied the bolt holes visible from our position. “Or the giant boulder?”

  “That’s on the way out. Stick with the script, Snowflake.”

  Rohan gave a half-grin, turning away like he didn’t want me to see it.

  “What?”

  “Hadn’t heard that nickname in a few weeks. I forgot how much I hated it.”

  “Yeah, that grin screams deep loathing.”

  He crouched down, slamming his fist down in the center of the one of the stones. An arrow shot over our heads.

  “Follow me. Exactly.” He stepped onto the first stone with supreme confidence.

  When nothing happened, I stepped on the same spot he’d just been.

  An arrow narrowly missed my shoulder.

  I jumped back, triggering some motion sensor that released the rest of the arsenal. Well, this sucks, I thought before I was ripped apart.

  Or was saved by Rohan crashing me to the floor, blocking my body with his as arrows whizzed overhead embedding into the walls on either side.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he joked.

  The edge of a flagstone jabbed into my shoulder blade, so I shifted, wanting up, but ended up pressed against Rohan instead. Our first full-body encounter since he’d returned. I arched up into him more and his leg shifted between my knees, the hard line of his body fitted to mine. My cheek grazed his, and I nuzzled into his neck.

  My body sighed in recognition and something else I didn’t want to examine too closely. I ran my hands along his biceps, Rohan catching my fingers and gently squeezing them. Enveloped by him as I was, the only reason I noticed that the arrows had stopped was because I could now hear my thudding heart. “We should keep going,” I said.