Harlow's Demons Complete Series

by Jen Pretty

  “I will help you,” Al said, appearing at the bottom of the ladder. He spread his wings and flapped up, sending my clothes and hair into a wild windstorm, but he easily shoved the manhole cover off the top.

  “Thanks, Al. How did you find us?” I asked, and I climbed the last couple rungs to crawl out on to the dark street.

  “You ran past me about a mile back in the tunnel,” he said, folding his wings into his back and glancing around.

  “Huh, I didn’t notice you,” I said absentmindedly as I scanned the alley. The pull was coming from the far end, and I crept forward. There were overflowing dumpsters lined up against the wall, and I had a bad creepy feeling about them. I reminded myself I didn't have Spidey-senses and pushed my legs to move me forward.

  Something crinkled in one of the big bins and I screamed, but anyone would have. It could have been a rat. It wasn’t. A rat, I mean. A tattooed hand slid out from under the lid of one bin followed by a bleeding Rory. His face was a mess. His eyes swollen shut and bruised beyond recognition.

  “Holy crap!” I reached up to help him out, but he was a mess and smelled so bad.

  Al took flight and lifted the garbage lid, then lifted Rory out and set him on his feet in the alley in front of me.

  He collapsed, but Al grabbed him, and Nick, who had followed us up from the tunnel, stepped forward to help.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Your-”

  “Shit-face!” I interrupted. I didn't want everyone to hear about shit-face potentially being my parental unit.

  “—Shit-face beat the shit out of me. He is a powerful demon,” Rory continued thankfully taking my cue not to call the monster my father. Rory’s voice was strained, and I could see the bruising on his neck. I knew what that felt like.

  “Okay, let's get you back to the hotel and you can relax,” I said, leading the way out of the alley. I had no idea where we were and Rory’s head tipped back. I thought he might be dead, but his broken nose was whistling with each breath. Al knew the city and got us to a corner with parked taxi cabs.

  The three of them slid into the back seat, and I climbed in beside the cabbie who looked like a cowboy. His western shirt was tucked into denim jeans, and a large belt buckle glistened in the streetlights. On top of his head sat a cowboy hat and little curls of blond hair peeked out beneath it. I was pretty sure if I could see his feet, he wore cowboy boots. Country music spilled from the speakers.

  Some song about a guy losing his girl, his job and his dog was playing. I rolled my eyes.

  Al gave the address of the hotel, and we cruised through the city in our steel horse like we were out to win the west. I never understood country music. It was oddly depressing.

  We made it up to the apartment, but Nick and Al took off for places unknown to me. Rory came around enough to have a quick shower before he collapsed in the bed, naked. I had suggested pants as he stumbled past the open bedroom door, but it was not to be.

  I clicked on the TV but couldn't focus on the drama on the screen when my life had enough excitement for a talk show. What would that TV psychiatrist think of my family situation? Estranged mother. Demon father. Fuck it.

  I clicked the TV off and curled up on the couch. I had lost my phone somewhere in the mayhem so couldn't even text Julian to see what was going on. If I could remember his number I could call, but my memory had gotten lazy since I got my cell phone. There was one number I knew by heart though.

  I pushed myself up to standing and crossed the room to the office area where there was a landline phone. I picked it up and dialed the number I knew by heart.

  “Len’s Pizza,” a young male voice chimed from my hometown. My eyes burned as tears pricked. I hadn't been away from home this long ever.

  I swallowed hard and said, “Can I talk to Len?”

  “Yup, just a sec.” The sound from the receiver went muffled and crinkly like the kid was holding it to his shirt.

  A moment later the raspy old voice came through, and those tears spilled over the edges of my eyelids, cutting trails down my cheeks.

  “Yeah,” Len said in a clipped voice. I wasn't sure what time it was; he was probably in the middle of chopping vegetables or something.

  It took a minute for my voice to catch up with my brain. “It’s me.” My voice came out strained and awkward with a hiccup at the end.

  “Harlow? What's happened?”

  I explained everything that had happened since the last time I had talked to him, but it was overwhelming.

  Len listened quietly, adding in the occasional grunt, so I knew he was still listening.

  “Sounds like youse been through a lot,” he summed up when I stopped talking. “You come to the shop when you get home, and we can talk.”

  I sighed. I had a goal. Go home to the pizza shop. I couldn't handle anything else, but I could handle that task. “Okay,” I whispered.

  “You be good. See you soon.” Len hung up the phone, leaving the dial tone ringing in my ear.

  I packed up my things, carefully avoiding the eyeful of naked half-demon spread-eagle on the bed. He didn’t believe in sheets or blankets either.

  Once I had everything packed, I grabbed several tiny bottles from the bar fridge, not caring what time of day it was, and turned, suitcase in hand, to leave.

  At that moment the suite door swung open and a tall, dark figure stepped through the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Julian asked, his face cold and serious.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Julian’s face was blank. I needed some clue about what he was feeling. Was he angry? How the hell should I know?

  “I’m going home. I took care of Collin. I want to go home.”

  Julian didn't speak. He didn't even move for a long moment reminding me of a gargoyle. Then he stepped forward and let the suite door slide shut behind him, closing with a click that broke the silence.

  I dropped my suitcase and threw my hands in the air. “I did what everyone wanted me to do, Julian.”

  For a flash of a second, his face betrayed him. Sadness. I caught it. Why would he be sad? Because I was leaving? Argh, the stupid half-demon was driving me crazy.

  “What do you want from me?” I yelled, spinning away to stare out the giant window overlooking the city of Jackson.

  The silence was overwhelming, but before I could turn back and look at him, he whispered, “Everything,” from right behind me. The heat of his body warmed my back, and I was tempted to lean back into him. I took a steadying breath and turned to look up at him. His eyes were black as night, his dark brows lowered.

  I opened my mouth to ask him some dumb question that was forgotten immediately when his lips crashed into mine. He pressed me back into the cold glass of the floor to ceiling window, and I had a passing vision of it breaking and me falling to my death, but I figured it was a good way to go.

  His hot lips parted mine and his tongue danced in my mouth, making all my nerves come alive. I ran my fingers through his soft black hair and let his warmth heat me nearly to boiling. He lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his hips, clinging to him with abandon.

  He broke the kiss long enough to whisper, “I need you,” then he turned and carried me across the suite to the bedroom.

  “Wait,” I said. But it was too late. He threw the door open and stopped dead at the sight before him. I kept my face buried in Julian's chest to stop the laughter that wanted to bubble out.

  Julian took a step backwards, closing the bedroom door with a sharp click.

  “Why is he naked?” he asked. I pushed away, and Julian set my feet on the ground.

  “It's a long story.”

  Julian's eyes burned into mine with a ferocity I didn't understand for a second.

  “Okay, it's not that long,” I said realizing it didn't look great that there was a naked man in my hotel room. “He got beat up by Shit-face and passed out.”

  Julian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m so
rry.” He looked away from me, but his face was so full of emotion, I reached up and turned it back so I could see it.

  He stood there wearing everything on his face. His regret, sadness, and something I wanted to believe was honesty and openness. I didn't know how to trust that, but I wanted to.

  “Come home with me,” he said in a low, pleading voice.

  I swallowed hard. Len said to meet him at the shop. I needed answers about Shit-face and my mother. I needed to know what Len knew.

  I shook my head, but he stopped my words with another searing kiss. My knees went weak, and I wanted to stay in that moment with him and forget all the rest of the junk. I didn't need a mother or father. I had been doing fine on my own most of my life. But I needed Julian.

  I pushed him back again and took a deep breath. “I can't go home with you. I have to see Len and get my life straightened out.

  “How long?” he asked.

  I turned away. “I don't know. A couple of weeks, anyway. Let me do this, and then I’ll visit you. I can't make promises, Julian.”

  He nodded and then studied the closed bedroom door. “Take him with you. He will be some help if the demon shows up. Not a lot, but some.” Then Julian turned and headed for the door of the suite.

  “Wait,” I said.

  He turned back but didn't raise his eyes to mine.

  “Where is my mother?” I had to find out if that demon was my father. I needed to know.

  Julian scoffed. “It was as you said. She disappeared when we needed her most.” He walked out of the suite, letting the door shut behind him.

  Crap.

  I pushed the bedroom door open closing my eyes tight. “Rory,” I said.

  Mumbling came from the direction of the bed.

  “Rory! It’s time to go!”

  “Shit,” he muttered, and the rattling of clothes followed the squeak of the bed. I spun back out of the room, closing the door behind me.

  I took out a tiny bottle of gin and downed it. The burn was delicious and calmed the anxiety that was still churning my stomach. I prayed that Shit-face wouldn't follow me home and refused to consider the fact I would probably have to go after him. That called for a second tiny bottle of alcohol.

  As I set the empty bottle on the edge of the desk, the bedroom door opened and Rory sauntered out, fully clothed, healed and carrying a backpack over his shoulder.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I took a deep breath and checked to be sure I had a few more bottles in my pocket. “As I’ll ever be,” I replied, grabbing my passport and extending the handle of my old suitcase.

  Finally, it was time to go home.

  Half-Demon Huntress Copyright © 2019 by Jen Pretty. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Drop Dead Design

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Jen Pretty

  Visit my website at www.jenprettyauthor.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: May 2019

  ISBN-978-1-7752906-9-8

  Demon huntress

  Harlow’s Demons book three

  Jen Pretty

  And when her halo broke, she carved the two halves into horns.

  —Jordan sarah weatherhead

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Rory, move your ass!" I yelled through the open door of the spare room.

  "Okay, okay," he replied, then muttered obscenities.

  I was sure other half-demon leaders didn't have to put up with back talk.

  He stumbled out of bed naked. I spun on my heel, leaving him to put some damn clothes on.

  In the kitchen of Lincoln's transformed auto shop, I clicked on the coffee machine and took out a pan and a package of bacon. Rory and I had come to an agreement: we would eat bacon every Saturday morning and alternate turns cooking it. This was my week, so the splatter and sizzle were soon sending the greatest smell through the whole building. Rory had stayed with me after our adventure in Jackson, and Lincoln offered him the spare room.

  "Darlin'," Rory said from behind me. "You really need to pass off this god-forsaken job to that human so we can sleep in once in a while."

  My almost ex-boyfriend Derrek should have been the gargoyle hunter for my hometown of Humber Falls, but his father was a sissy and decided not to pass the torch to his only child.

  "I told you, Derrek is too weak and simple for the task," I replied, glancing to find that Rory had managed to at least get pants on.

  "He's a police officer. They have to go through training and exams."

  I slid the bacon on to two plates and filled two mugs with coffee. "Your point?"

  Rory chuckled and shook his head. "Fine, but if I die of exhaustion from all these early mornings, I will come back and haunt you."

  I popped some bacon in my mouth and chewed. He wouldn't haunt me. He would be too busy sleeping. I swear he could sleep twenty hours a day and still need a nap. I’d considered that he maybe had a medical issue, but it seemed he just liked to sleep.

  The buzzing of Linc's power tools stopped so abruptly, it startled me. He had been working night and day for a month trying to carve enough new gargoyles for all the demons we captured in Collin's underground layer. He wasn't solely responsible for the required gargoyles, but the Demon Division had divided them up amongst the sculptors who came to help. Linc took the bulk of the work. He was a workaholic.

  Linc walked through the door that separated the workshop from the kitchen. He had his goggles perched on his head and stone dust coated his whole body except what the goggles and dust mask covered. He looked like he had walked through a cloud of baby powder.

  "Hey, Linc."

  "You heading out soon?" He asked, crossing to the sink to rinse his face and hands.

  I leaned back in my chair and sipped my coffee. "As soon as Rory wakes up." Rory had his head tipped back resting it on the back of the chair and his eyes were closed. He had cleaned off his plate in two seconds. The only thing he did better than sleep was eat.

  Linc chuckled and slid into the seat beside me. "Your lieutenant can't handle the schedule of a gargoyle hunter."

  I sighed. "Don't you start, too."

  "I'm just saying, the Division wants you to pass the town off. The town boy can handle it. His father will have to suck it up."

  Now his father can suck it up? Not before I kicked a figurative hornet's nest on the night of my prom and ended up tangled in this demon mess? My sigh was big enough I could have knocked over all three little piggies’ houses. The time had come to talk to my nemesis. Friggin' Derrek.

  "Fine, I'll track him down tomorrow and break the bad news to him."

  Linc gave me the look. The one that said tomorrow wasn't good enough.

  "Okay, today. God. Give me a break."

  Masculine chuckling came from Rory. Sometimes I hated that guy.

  "Let's go, lazy. We have gargoyles to chase down," I said. downing the last dregs of my coffee and rising from the table. I sauntered back to get my amulets from their place on the back of my door and then pulled my boots on. The boots were high enough to guard my ankles from the biting demons and had worn in perfectly over the last couple months. They were so comfortable I could wear them all day and not get a single blister.

  Net in hand, I was ready for my morning routine.

  Rory and I left the house and took a tour of the town. Humber Falls was a sleepy Hamlet. Everyone knew everyone else, and the gossip was rarely much of a scandal, except that time that the town drunk sang in the town square at midn
ight with a megaphone. Okay, maybe that wasn't really a scandal either, but it was funny.

  We crossed the main street and passed Len's Pizzeria on our way to the bank. One little demon was usually off gallivanting and this morning was no different. His bare perch meant I had work to do. The troublemaker was usually in the park, but as we swept through, there was no sign of him.

  "Now, what?" Rory asked, pulling his jacket closer to his neck. It was getting cold. We rarely got snow, but winter was wet, and the temps plunged low enough I had dug my mitts out of my closet before we left that morning. "I don't know. He is usually here. Let’s head back to the main road. Maybe we missed him."

  Rory sighed like it was the end of the world. I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my brain. Being a huntress was not such a bad job after hunting down demons and rogue half-demons. Rory was just not used to quiet living or early rising.

  The park was well lit by the moon and the lamps that illuminated the path running through the park. There would be joggers out soon. I was scanning the trees as we walked out into a small clearing, and a voice echoed through the darkness.

  "Looking for this?"

  I dropped my gaze to find Derrek holding a writhing gargoyle in his gloved hand.

  "What the fuck? Put that down," I said.

  Derrek laughed. "Harlow, I'm not putting it down."

  "It's mine. It's just a toy." I said. Hopefully, that would cover me.

  "I know what it is. I found my father's journal after I caught you here with your previous boyfriend," he said eyeing Rory. "I put two and two together. You are the gargoyle hunter."

  "Huntress," I muttered. I guess the gargoyle was really out of the bag now.

  "Huntress," he repeated. "Now show me what to do with this thing." He held it out like a stinky sock. He had a point. They weren't exactly sanitary. I had caught them in garbage dumpsters, rolling around in dirty diapers and discarded hamburgers as if it was a seaweed wrap at the spa.