Dark Hunt

by Kim Richardson

  I sank into the seat, relishing the deep rumble of the engine as I stared at the familiar landscape of rolling hills, ponds, and farmhouse that lined Upper Brook Road.

  I shifted nervously in my seat. Jax’s cologne was a pleasant mix of spices and fruit that probably cost more than my month’s rent. I hadn’t been this close to a man since I’d elbowed a male witch in the gut after he’d attempted to spell my drink six months ago at a pub in Chicago.

  Hunters were loners, and loners didn’t get to go on many dates. Sure, I’d dated humans, but it always ended badly—usually with me running away in the middle of the night. How could I ever explain what they couldn’t see or understand? That didn’t leave a lot of males to choose from. I’d given up on the whole dating thing. I kept myself busy, so I didn’t get lonely.

  It didn’t work.

  “So, there were three more like you,” said Jax as he slowed to go over a railway track.

  “Yes.” I sighed, and then added, “but only one now.” Here come the never-ending questions. “And that I know of. We were all born without a sigil birthmark.”

  “Same age?”

  “Close enough,” I answered, rummaging through my brain for my memories. “A few months in between, give or take. But we were all roughly the same age.”

  “That’s weird,” said Jax, lines appearing on his brows.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Think about it. All born within that same year… all without a sigil and all in the same town. Doesn’t that strike you as a little bit weird? What are the odds of that happening when you guys are supposed to be rare?”

  I opened my mouth to protest but closed it. He had a point. A very good point. I’d never really considered it before. But what did that mean? Why were our birthdates so close together? And why all in the same town?

  Jax flicked his attention from the road to me and back to the road. His eyes held a mix of concern and disbelief. “What’s the council’s explanation for being born the way you were. You said they did tests. They must have come up with a theory?”

  “Yeah, that I was dangerous,” I said bitterly. “If they knew something, they never shared it. At least, not with me.” My stomach twisted. I’d always felt as though my parents had known more about why I’d been born differently than they’d let on. But whatever they knew, they never shared it, and I never got the chance to ask them.

  “The others,” inquired Jax, his eyes curious. “Did you guys hang around with each other? Were you friends?”

  I looked out the front windshield. “Not really. Cindy’s parents never let her out of their sight, and Samantha and Karen were practically sewed at the hip. I knew them a little, but I wouldn’t call us friends.”

  “Why do you feel what happened to your parents wasn’t an accident?” he asked.

  A flash of anger warmed me. “Why were you looking at that body like you were expecting to see something else?” I prompted.

  I turned to see a muscle tighten along his jaw as he watched the road in front of him. But he never answered.

  The car phone rang, loud in the overwhelming silence, making me jump.

  Jax looked at me and pressed a button on his steering wheel. “Yeah?”

  “Jax? It’s Daniel,” said a loud voice on the speaker phone. “I searched our records for the name you gave me… Cindy Wentworth… there’s nothing man. No records of that name. You sure you have it right?”

  I looked at Jax. Tension slammed back into me and I felt myself stiffen.

  “Yes,” answered Jax. “That’s the right name.”

  “Sorry, man,” came Daniel’s voice. “I don’t know what to tell you. Does this have something to do with the recent murders of those two angel-born?”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “Shit. I’ll keep looking. I’ll give you a call if I find anything.”

  “Okay,” said Jax. “Thanks, man.” He pressed a button on his steering wheel and turned towards me. “I guess you were right. Looks like the council doesn’t want to admit that you ever existed.”

  I looked out the window. “Yeah, well, welcome to my world.” I doubted that the council didn’t keep records of those like me. I was sure they did. I guess this Daniel didn’t know where to look or didn’t have the proper clearance.

  “Do you remember where she lived?” asked Jax. “Maybe we could ask her parents? If they still live there, I’m sure they’ll tell us where she is now.”

  “Sure,” I answered. “Yeah. Cindy’s parents’ house was only five houses down from my parents.” My heart pounded as I recognized the old maple tree on Bellwood Avenue. “Turn left at the next intersection.”

  Jax did as I instructed. We drove along Riverside Drive, the long stretch of road that bordered the Hudson River. The blue waters sparkled in the sun, and white-topped waves hit the shores in a soothing rhythm.

  “Do you know why a demon is after you?” asked Jax after a long moment of silence.

  I shook my head. “No idea. I might be wrong. I hope I’m wrong. The idea of a Greater demon hunting us—the Unmarked—opens an entirely new can of worms…” My words trailed off, and this time the silence was welcomed.

  “Turn right here,” I said, after a two-minute drive along the water’s edge.

  We pulled onto a short country road with tall golden grasses swaying in the breeze along white fences. Majestic pine trees lined the street, and hidden behind them was the small neighborhood I grew up in. Twenty craftsman-style homes were evenly spaced along a ring road, with Highland Park nestled in the middle. Multicolored roofs, siding and pitched gables gleamed in the sun like a fairytale village.

  My heart thumped painfully as we approached where my parents’ house used to be. Jax felt my tension as he slowed down next to a square patch of land with tall grass. I could see the foundation through the weeds. It was all that had been left after the fire.

  “This is an angel-born neighborhood, right?” Jax’s voice was low and gentle. It surprised me. But I was grateful he didn’t ask about the fire. I wasn’t sure I could answer.

  “Yes,” I said as I cleared my voice and blinked my burning eyes. “When I lived here, most of these families worked in Hallow Hall. A secluded little getaway, nestled back in the trees and safe from spying eyes. A regular love nest.”

  Jax laughed and I turned around. His eyes met mine and he smiled. Not the cocky smile he’d given me or Pam, but a real, genuine smile. It transformed his face, making it spectacular.

  Warmth shot up from my neck to my face and I quickly turned around. “Here,” I pointed to a house. “The white house with the red door. That’s Cindy’s parents’ house.”

  Jax pulled his car to a stop in front of the house and killed the engine. I popped the door open and was already up on the front porch by the time I heard Jax’s car door close.

  An uneasy feeling ran over me, prickles of sensation along the nape of my neck as I stood on the front porch.

  “Something’s wrong.” I felt Jax behind me before I saw him.

  He looked at the door. “The door’s closed and there’s no sign of a forced entry. You think someone broke in—”

  “No.” I felt the coldness in me, the tug of supernatural that I’d always felt whenever a demon was near. The pull of darkness was strong. My ears pulsed with it.

  “Something’s definitely not right.”

  Jax turned to look at me, brows furrowed. “How do you know?”

  “I can feel it.”

  “You can feel it?”

  I knew it was the wrong thing to say by the alarm that flashed across his face. Damn. Too late. He was bound to find out sooner or later since we were working together. Sure, angel-born could see the supernatural, but only angels could feel the tug of demon energies. Feel it in the angel senses, in their bones and core, like I did.

  But I was no angel.

  Jax was still staring at me as I pulled out my soul blade and pushed the door open with my other hand. With the feeling of panic increasi
ng, I stepped through the small foyer. Inside the curtains were all drawn, giving the impression of nighttime in the house. The lights were off.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth?” I called out into the semi-darkness. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

  I moved past the wooden staircase and went into the living room. Cushions had been ripped from the sofa and scattered around the room. Some were torn lengthwise, feather and cotton innards spilling onto the floor. The flat screen TV was lying on the ground, smashed open like a wound. The bookshelves had been tipped over, their contents scattered. And blood. Blood splashes spotted the couch and pillows, and I could see bloody handprints smeared on the walls, as though someone had tried to pull themselves up.

  To the human eyes, this would seem like a robbery gone wrong, but I wasn’t human. And the obvious pulse of darkness dissolved the possibility that anything other than the supernatural was here—and had done this.

  Jax and I shared a look and I noticed a long dagger in his hand. I followed the blood trail that led towards the kitchen at the back end of the house. The hair on the back of my neck pricked at the sudden rise of darkness. My skin tingled at the smell of blood. I listened for any floor board squeaks or sudden movement, but I only heard the soft pad of our boots.

  As I crept towards the kitchen, the blood spatter on the floor became puddles. I felt Jax tense beside me as we obviously both came to the same conclusion that there was way too much blood for anyone to have survived whatever this attack was.

  My breath caught when I saw them. Lying on the kitchen floor in puddles of their own blood, their faces were nearly unrecognizable, shredded into thin ribbons. Their chests lay open, their innards spilling onto the checkered linoleum floor. Their hands and feet were bound. Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth.

  Horror spread through me at the sight, but also because now I knew I was right. Something was definitely after us. My stomach contracted in terror as I took in the scene, the broken chairs and table, where they’d probably been tortured for the whereabouts of their daughter Cindy.

  My eyes burned as I thought of my parents, burning alive, screaming for help that never came…

  “Is that them?” asked Jax as he inspected the bodies, his voice hard.

  “Yes, it’s Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth. They were tortured by the looks of it,” I said as I inspected the ropes around their wrists. “The demon was looking for their daughter.”

  “The way their skin is ripped, with the long, deep gashes, is the same as the other two victims.” Jax moved to the side, careful not to step in the blood. “Do you think they told it where she was?”

  “No,” I answered. “The way they were always so protective of her, there’s no way in hell they would have given up their only daughter. Maybe—”

  The pull of darkness hit me, but it was already too late.

  6

  I spun to a defense crouch, my soul blade at the ready. Three figures stepped from the shadows in the hallway, just outside the kitchen. Igura demons. Yup, not one, but three.

  Impossible creatures of nightmares with scales, claws and fangs, the cluster of black eyes was set dead center in the front of their flat skulls. They looked like a cross between a lizard and a rat. Their tails ended in a thick talon that whipped menacingly from side to side. Gleaming daggers with black blades hung in their grip—death blades, the demon daggers containing a demonic power that was poison to angels and angel-born. Just a small cut or even just touching the blade with a hand was enough to kill an angel. Fresh blood dripped from their blades as they lowered themselves, readying their bodies to spring.

  “Move! The back door!” I yelled as I turned and pulled Jax towards the breakfast nook and the kitchen’s back door. I knew these things’ weakness was light. I hoped the demons wouldn’t follow us in broad daylight. Still, if they did, we’d have better odds fighting them outside. Demons hated the light, as darkness fed them. Without the protection of a human body or a constant fill of human souls, the light would kill them unless they slipped back to the Netherworld. We needed to get outside.

  Jax reached the handle and I saw him pull the door open, just as I slipped on the blood and went down. Damn. Of all the times I could have been a klutz, now wasn’t the time.

  Remembering my training, I rolled over, raising my knees to protect my stomach.

  An igura demon crashed into me, the creature snarling and snapping. I gasped as its weight crushed my lungs, my breath escaping me. I kicked out with my legs, my boots connecting with its jaw, and the igura went sprawling backwards. I jumped to my feet just as another came barreling at me in a flash of claws and teeth.

  I swung my soul blade, slicing into the demon’s neck. Its warm blood splattered my face as it stepped back. I heard an angry, clicking growl. I took that half-second to search for Jax. The back door was open, letting in rays of light, but there was no sign of Jax.

  The bastard had left me.

  I let my anger spill inside as the same igura roared and then shot forward. From the corner of my eye, another demon leaped at me, and then came the other. Three against one. Great.

  I steadied myself. “Come on, mouth-breathers!”

  The kitchen echoed with the earsplitting cries of the demons, deep, savage, and vicious. I gripped my blade so hard it hurt, and then I let my instincts drive me.

  I spun, hacked and sliced. Gasping, I hit the ground and rolled to the left, slicing as I came back up. I danced with death. I was death. I felt the warmth of their blood hitting my face, but I never stopped. If I stopped, I was dead.

  My blade was an extension of my arm as I tried to cut my way through three demons. The smell of rot and sulfur filled my lungs, and I coughed. I could barely breathe.

  Heart pounding, I knew I had to get out of the house. But my head spun, and I couldn’t see past the scaled limbs and teeth and claws. The demons pulled back, as though something had startled them.

  “Who sent you? Who is your master?” I shouted. I had no idea if iguras understood English. Iguras were stupid. These lesser demons weren’t smart enough to tie up and interrogate a few mortals nor had they the patience to do it. These creatures were only out for blood. They wanted to feed on mortal souls.

  “Who do you serve? Who is your master?” I asked. “Quis vos servies?” I figured they might understand Latin better than English.

  The demons stilled. Their heads cocked to the side, as though they we trying to understand.

  My heart throbbed. “Quis vos servies?” I asked again. I knew I was getting somewhere, their pause all but telling me exactly what I thought. They were sent by a Greater demon. But which one? And why?

  All at once, they came for me again. I barely had time to swing my blade. I backed up and sliced through a set of claws. Something caught my foot, and I fell backwards, sprawling into something soft—Mr. Wentworth.

  “Oh, hell no.” I did my best to ignore the wetness and mush I felt. It was like falling into a giant raspberry pie that was still warm, but I was dead if I stopped to whine about the grossness of slipping into the innards of two dead people. My new clothes were ruined.

  “Jax! You coward!” I yelled.

  Growls reached me, and I instinctively brought my blade up. It sliced right through the demon’s throat. I pulled back as it fell next to me. There was sickening pop as the demon burst into ash, sending dust right into my face. I heard the soft clang of metal as its death blade hit the floor. The blade would remain solid for an hour or so, until its essence returned to the Netherworld, just like the essence of demons.

  Blinded, I twisted around, trying to get a solid grip and push myself up, but I couldn’t. I fell back onto the bodies, and nausea twisted my stomach.

  Sharp, wet teeth reached over me, snapping viciously at my face. I kicked and made contact with one of the demons as it stumbled back. I drove my blade up, but not fast enough.

  Teeth sank into the flesh of my extended arm. I cried out as fire burned my skin where the demon’s fangs had punctured it. I made a fi
st with my other hand and punched it in the head, but it didn’t let go. I punched it again, and again, and again, and still the beast didn’t turn loose.

  Pain exploded through my side as I felt tiny knives rake my flesh. I smelled the rot of the other demon before I saw it clawing at my side.

  A darting shape drew my eye. Jax.

  He leaped forward and stabbed the demon with my arm pinned in its mouth. The demon let go and drew back with a howl of pain, Jax’s blade still protruding from its back.

  Jax pulled another blade from his waist. It was longer and thicker than a soul blade—more like a short sword—and swung it at the attacking demon.

  With my blade arm free, I reached out and stabbed the other demon in the chest in quick successions. It hissed at me and stumbled back. I rolled to the right and felt the hard floor under me as I jumped up.

  “Where the hell were you?” I yelled and braced myself for the demon to pounce again.

  Jax ducked and spun around the other demon. “I thought you were behind me,” he panted.

  “I wasn’t.” I kicked the demon’s gut, imagining it was Jax’s face.

  “I know that now.”

  Hot anger welled over my skin. The igura demons were starting to piss me off. One demon’s mouth stretched widely with each roar. It leaned over me, black eyes glowing while snapping its huge teeth. I faked to the left, came up behind it, and slammed my blade through its skull. I felt it fall to the ground, and my attention whipped to Jax.

  He moved fluidly and with the skilled grace of a killer. One moment he was next to me, and the next he was facing the last demon. There was a thud of metal hitting bone, and I saw Jax’s sword running through the demon’s neck. He yanked it back, and the demon fell to the ground, exploding into ash.

  I raised my brows. Impressive. He fought extremely well, but I wasn’t about to tell him. I reached down, picked up my soul blade, and bounded down the hallway.