The Unlikeable Demon Hunter: Need (Nava Katz Book 3)

by Deborah Wilde

  I pulled out a fat black felt pen.

  “He’s not here,” Ari said from the staircase.

  I held up the marker.

  “Fuck.” Ari smacked the wall. “Malik’s got him.”

  “You think he’s still alive?” We ran upstairs.

  “I have no idea. Malik didn’t take the others. He just killed them.”

  “What makes Daniel different? Assuming he didn’t escape?”

  “Let’s see if we can find out,” Ari said. “At the very least, find something with his full name on it so we can call and see if he’s on duty.”

  We found a bill laying half under the sofa, next to the wreckage of the coffee table. “Daniel Walsh. Ace, did we do this? Because we had a stupid fight and didn’t warn him? Didn’t check on him?”

  “I did check on him. I swung by last night. He was fine. Even had a couple of friends over.” He squatted down and touched the burned wood. “It’s still warm.”

  “Malik can keep his fire from burning anything when he wants to,” I said. “So did he not want to or did he lose control?” I shivered, covered in goosebumps. Not merely like someone walking over my gravesite, like someone was walking over me and pushing their way inside.

  Ari nodded that he’d felt it too, then cocked his head listening, but all was silent.

  I called up my magic, a ball of current curved in my palm.

  The air grew heavy as Ari reached into the shadows. Darkness coiled around his arm like a whip, he motioned for us to split up.

  If Malik was here we found no sign of him. Though I did find a metal box in Daniel’s tiny office upstairs containing photos of him over the years, ranging from a toddler grinning and hoisted on the shoulders of his police officer dad, through awkward childhood poses, and good times with friends. There was also a birth certificate listing Daniel’s place of birth as Malaysia. That must have been his mother’s heritage since in the photos, Daniel’s dad was Caucasian.

  Ari entered the room and I showed him what I’d found. “I hope we don’t have to inform his parents of his death,” I said.

  “Not today we won’t. I called the VPD. He’s on-duty.”

  “Seriously?” I sat down, exhaling heavily. “Did you talk to him?”

  “No. I left a message asking him to call me. Stressed it was urgent. If Daniel was here when Malik destroyed the place then he’s seen the marid for what he really is. Hopefully he’s smart enough to stay away.”

  “And if Daniel left for work before Malik arrived? If Malik was furious that he missed him?”

  Ari placed his hand on my shoulder and guided me out of the room. “Then let’s hope we get to Daniel before Malik does.”

  Our ride back to Demon Club was conducted in silence but not the angry kind. As soon as we got inside, Ari called out for Kane to meet us in the library.

  “What?” Kane joined us, but he refused to look at my brother.

  Ari looked like he wanted to say something, then nudged my foot under the table.

  “Can you find the marid for us with your mad computer skills?” I asked. We’d already confirmed that Malik wasn’t at his studio and the person manning the phone at the artists’ collective either didn’t have or wasn’t willing to give out Malik’s personal contact information. “At least find his iPhone or something.”

  Ari smothered a laugh.

  “That is so insulting,” Kane huffed. “Should the demon have even a hovel to call his own, I will find its exact GPS coordinates.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “Stating the obvious. Here.” Kane slapped a folded piece of paper into my hand.

  “Are these the ingredients for the magic-testing spell?”

  “That can wait,” Ari said. “We need to pin Malik down.”

  “Thanks for explaining the priority. My feeble girl brain couldn’t sort that out.” I smoothed out the paper. “I’ll deal with this later.”

  “Whatever,” Ari said.

  “Far be it for me to ever choose vag over a giant dick,” Kane said, “but I agree with Nava. The questions surrounding the spine need to be dealt with.”

  I scanned the list. “Where do I get Snowdonia Hawkweed?”

  “It’s extremely rare,” Kane said. “I was able to find one sketchy supplier in Rio with a very limited supply. One plant limited.”

  “Then time is of the essence.”

  “Good luck,” Kane said.

  “Kane.”

  Kane ignored my brother and left the room.

  “He’s still mad about Malik?” I said. Sure, Ari shouldn’t have kissed him to work off his attraction to a demon but on the other hand, Kane knew how shit could happen when dealing with evil spawn. “Kane seems to have a lot of lines thou shalt not cross.”

  Ari laughed bitterly. “It’s more of a spiderweb.”

  I clutched the ingredient list. “Ari, my most wonderful brother–”

  “So much for ‘later.’”

  “In and out. We can do this in like half an hour.”

  “No.”

  “Please. Kane needs time to find Malik anyway. And you said you wouldn’t interfere.”

  “Book a flight to Rio. I won’t say a word. But I’m not going to actively help you in this insane quest.” He dropped his voice. “It’s bad enough you’re keeping that demon here. What will they do if they find out you’re casting spells?”

  I just needed him for this one quick trip, then I’d prove what the Brotherhood was up to and watch Rome burn. “I invoke ‘Thistleton.’”

  Mrs. Thistleton had been a neighbor of ours who’d constantly asked us to help her out and had perfected the art of the guilt trip. We’d made her name into a joke password between us, where the other person would have to agree to do something, no questions asked, or endure torturous amounts of guilt.

  “And I’m invoking ‘not gonna help you,’” Ari said.

  “You can’t. It’s Thistleton.”

  “Can and did.”

  I crossed my arms. “Then I invoke ‘you owe me because I made you Rasha.’”

  Ari smiled thinly. “You held out way longer than I expected on lording that over me.”

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “Not.” He brushed past me.

  “If you don’t do this for me, I swear I’ll never speak to you again.”

  He turned to face me. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Try me.”

  His eyes were cool.

  What was happening to the two of us? Bad enough my constant fears about our twinness these days, now I found myself doubting our past. My entire life I’d been so certain of our unassailable sibling connection, but with every new conversation we had I was plagued with doubt.

  I suppressed a shiver. Was his silence him calling my bluff or not wanting to call it? I didn’t actually want to know. “Then do this for Leo.”

  “Why should I help a PD?”

  “Because it’s Leo and you’re not an asshole. The spine is already connected to the Brotherhood and if it’s the means of binding demons? Greedy humans being able to harness demon power? That puts Leo at risk of being used. Please.”

  “Give me the damn address,” he snarled.

  I exhaled. It was the hollowest victory ever. I mean, yay, he cared about Leo, I just wasn’t certain he cared about me.

  Without warning, Ari grabbed my wrist. The air heated and the cool light of a drizzly Vancouver day was replaced by an all-pervasive green as we stepped out under a familiar steel tower with a round viewing platform way up top.

  The throng of people readjusted themselves around us without a second glance.

  I swallowed the metallic bile in my throat. “Holy shit, we’re in Seattle.”

  Intellectually aware that we were invisible to the tourists, business people, moms pushing strollers, and hipsters with lattes flowing around us like we were rocks in a stream didn’t keep me from scanning the area.

  Ari didn’t answer me, didn’t comment on our
surroundings at all, his expression made of granite.

  We jumped again, stepping out under a cloudless sky, redwood trees towering over our heads. I admired their majesty though I could have done without the nausea. A flash of movement caught my eye; a man on a zip line silently whipped past high above. A group of people stood on a platform in a nearby tree awaiting their turn.

  Ari’s face was covered in a faint sheen of sweat and he was paler than normal.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Now you care?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek.

  Our third stop landed us in a massive plaza flanked by a cathedral and stately buildings that I guessed might be for government use. We stood in the shadow of an enormous flag flying proudly in three colors that all looked like varying shades of green in this light, with a coat of arms on it.

  Ari gazed up at it. “Mexico City. One more jump and we should be there.”

  I took a couple of deep breaths, glad that while my stomach still lurched in “après one too many spinny rides” fashion, I didn’t need to hurl. I wished I could hear the music that the buskers in Aztec costume danced to or the rapid-fire Spanish of the fashionistas sashaying through on high heels. A hub of human activity, this plaza was life cranked to eleven but stuck on mute.

  As opposed to the sub-arctic glower emanating off of Ari.

  “Why can’t you support me in this?” I asked.

  “Because you have so many issues with the Brotherhood that it’s clouding your judgment. Where’s your loyalty?”

  I dabbed my brow. “Where’s yours? I’m your sister. Have you even noticed how I’ve been treated by this wonderful organization of yours? For the heinous crime of having a vagina?”

  “How should they treat you? Sure, you’ve taken out some demons, helped on a mission, but the rest of us spent twenty years being tested. Proving ourselves. Earning their respect. You want it easy.”

  “I didn’t get the–”

  “Chance because they didn’t check for a girl. Yeah, we know. But if you were capable of seeing anyone else’s viewpoint, maybe you’d realize that soothing your hurt feelings aren’t exactly a priority given the ongoing fight against evil.”

  “Especially if they’re busy playing both sides.”

  Ari growled, curling his fingers and shaking his hands like he wanted to throttle me.

  “Forget it. Jump us.”

  We clasped hands, our hearts separated by the Grand Canyon.

  I tumbled out of the darkness into the Emerald City POV of this new location, sprawling on my ass on a carpet of rotting leaves. They were rotting and leaves only by sight. The air was odor-free and the ground under my hands was a textureless smoothness, much like a Barbie doll’s va-jay-jay. “Ari?”

  And then there was one.

  22

  My brother may not have been there, but I wasn’t alone. The log next to me slithered deeper into the jungle. Squeaking, I leapt to my feet, a burst of magic shooting from my palms at the anaconda.

  My power dissipated, unable to pierce the veil between the Emerald City version of the dense rainforest that I was in, and the actual rainforest. Once my adrenaline rush shaking had subsided, I set off looking for Ari.

  I have no idea how long I wandered under the canopy of trees, doing my best to keep any suspicions that he’d deliberately abandoned me at bay. The utter silence didn’t add to my mental state. My warbled singing was a slight improvement but at least trying to recall actual lyrics instead of the phonetic gibberish I usually butchered songs with kept me occupied as I searched.

  Even in my contained panic, my neck had a crick in it from gawking at the macaws, tiny frogs, and monkeys that I passed, but nothing was as impressive as the jaguar that slunk past me, tail swishing, its spots close enough to touch. Being in an actual jungle, even in EC mode, was way more impressive than the illusion that the cù-sith had spun.

  Night fell. Not that it got dark here in EC, but the all-pervasive green light deepened. I collapsed on a stump, now stripped down to my bra and boy shorts. I wasn’t sure if the normal heat of the jungle was amping up the already high temperatures of Ari’s magic, but damn, it was blistering. I was roasting, my skin hot to the touch, but unable to produce sweat. My mouth was dry and sticky and my head throbbed.

  I blinked slowly at the welcome sight in front of me. “Oh. There you are.” I stumbled forward, reaching for the red Solo Cup that I’d left at the frat party and tipped it back. Empty.

  Sports bottles I couldn’t open, empty soda cans, and a river that flowed just out of tiptoe reach, I couldn’t get hold of anything to quench my desperate thirst.

  I sat back down on my director’s chair and snapped my fingers. “Craft services!”

  No cool bottle of water was delivered. I made a note to fire that department, surveying the film set before me. The lighting wasn’t bad, but what was with all the animals? My extras casting director sucked balls.

  A massive beetle scuttled out of the bottom of my director’s chair. I drew my feet up to my chest. “Speak English?” It continued to ignore me. “Parlez-vous français?”

  Nothing.

  I gave an understanding nod. These poor animals weren’t making any noise. They were deaf mutes. Not a problem. I knew a couple words of ASL. I signed out my name. The beetle didn’t sign back. I signed the horns and flicking hand for bullshit.

  “Yo! Give me fifty percent less beast and a hundred percent more male. Where are my half-dressed, fully ripped men?”

  No one jumped to obey.

  I swear, this was the worst crew in the history of mankind. “Music.” That always got me going so maybe it would bring out my deadbeat workers. Since apparently I had to do everything around here, I started singing the movie’s soundtrack myself. I’d gotten through Aretha’s “Respect,” Destiny Child’s “Independent Woman,” and was swaying on my feet, halfway into my phonetic interpretation of Janet Jackson’s “Control,” before the parade of loincloth bedecked man candy deigned to arrive.

  Had I hired clones? Each one had dark hair, dark skin, gold eyes, and an identical unrepentant smirk.

  I shooed them away.

  The bastards multiplied, marching around me like the brooms in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, their faces set in challenge. I stomped my feet. “This is not what I called for!” It wasn’t until I invoked the higher power of “I Will Survive” ordering them to walk out that door that I drove them off, using my last bit of energy.

  I collapsed onto my knees. Since my eyes didn’t throb when I shut them, I did that, too.

  Ari caught me before I fell over, sweeping me into his arms.

  I giggled, poking him in the chest. “Why are you wearing a Superman outfit?” My laughter ended on a croak. “Oww. I hurt, Ace.”

  “Hang on.” His voice was shaky.

  I smoothed out his eyebrows with my finger. “All is well. Don’t panic.” Then the world gave a weird twist. My stomach lurched and I swallowed hard.

  “We’re home,” Ari said.

  The reassuring scent of pine needles blew over me before a door clicked shut cutting off the stream of cool night air.

  “Water,” I mumbled through thick lips.

  I opened my eyes as far as they would go. Kane was ripping open a small square package. I repeated the word, touching my mouth with my finger in case he didn’t understand.

  “Stay still,” he said. “I have to get this isotonic saline in and rehydrate you.”

  Hands held me down as a needle pierced my flesh. I cried out, my skin strung so tight, I’d swear jagged cracks splintered out from the needle’s point of entry.

  “It’s in. I’ll put you to bed now,” Ari said.

  “Bed good.”

  I woke up with a scratchy throat on sheets possessing a thread count that didn’t exist in my department store shopping reality. An IV drip was in my arm, the almost-empty bag hanging off a pole.

  A small lamp was draped with a scarf to diffuse the light,
bathing everything in a mellow rose glow. Rohan, earbuds half fallen out of his ears and his fist closed tight around something, was asleep on a chair next to the bed.

  His bed.

  Apparently my idiot brother required specific possessive pronouns because when I’d said “bed good” I’d meant my bed.

  I pulled the drip from my hand. Between the IV and my own accelerated Rasha healing, I felt fine. The rip of tape sounded way too loud, but the music spilling out from the earbuds tempered it somewhat.

  Rohan didn’t stir.

  I eased the blankets off, swinging my feet onto the floor, fully intending to sneak out, except curiosity got the better of me. Step-by-step, I inched toward Rohan, watching for any change to his posture or breathing. When I got within arm’s range, I carefully slid a finger under the earbud wire, easing it toward me, and screwed the earbuds in.

  A haunting violin and strings piece swirled around me. Albinoni’s “Adagio.” The music swelled, taking root in my ribcage. I took wing on the song, a dark knot of ugliness inside me unraveling with each note. Achingly beautiful, the music filled me with life as much as each lungful of oxygen did.

  My heart fluttered, breaking open. Having spent so much time in the EC, I was unsure about the solidity of this world. If cracks appeared, what would slip through? Had cracks appeared in me?

  I placed a hand on my chest, my eyes darting to Rohan for some kind of confirmation that I was real and solid, but he slept on.

  Pressure crushed my temples like a vice, snaking down through my jaw and neck. My teeth throbbed. There was so much beauty in this music and so much darkness in me.

  My nails gauged my skin.

  Everything I kept so carefully contained was seeping out, the overstuffed box locked tight in my psyche vibrating harder and harder. The more the melody soared, the more my ribcage started trying to strangle me.

  The adagio crested to the climax.

  The box inside me expanded, straining at the seams, the lid about to blow right off. I ripped the earbuds out and raced for the door. I reached for the knob…

  …and was swung up into Rohan’s arms.

  I fought him, but he was too strong for me to break his hold. “Let go of me.”