"Everyone."
Malachai and I spoke at the same time, then laughed.
"You're not difficult, just stubborn." He smiled indulgently.
"I'll remember that the next time I ditch a partner."
"Who's ditchin' a partner?" Damien asked. "We could use 'em on clean up." Rake-thin with a receding hairline, Damien Wright had always been Damo to me.
"Good old Aussie nickname," he'd declared, and proceeded to supply everyone with their own.
"Hey Jules, busy night?" Damien asked. He carried a bucket and scrubbing brush to the sink and dumped them in.
"You could say that." I filled them in on what the shade said.
"Geez, no wonder Malo looked like he ate a spider." Damien gestured toward Malachai. "Fuckin' shades are nothing but trouble."
"You've met a few, have you?" Malachai asked, looking at Damien from underneath his eyebrows.
"Nah, but I've dated a few women who act like them." Damien grinned.
"When did you last go on a date?" Freya handed him a mug of coffee and sipped her own.
"You keep saying no, Freyo."
"I also keep reminding you my name is Freya," she retorted. "If you keep calling me Freyo, I might be forced to hurt you." She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled.
Their conversations usually consisted of teasing and more teasing. As far as I could tell, it was harmless fun and neither minded.
"Has anyone seen Seamus?" I asked. He wasn't usually far away when coffee was on hand.
"Speaking of dates," Damien remarked.
I fixed him with a look, to which he responded with a grin.
"I know, I know," he replied, "I'm more your type. Shame I'm taken."
"If I ever get tired of Damien begging me to go out with him, he'll know where to find you," Freya said, giving me a wink.
Malachai cleared his throat. "Meanwhile, there's a shade out there, potentially causing trouble, and your point about Seamus is well taken. He should be here by now." He pushed his cup aside and rose. "I'll check his room."
"I'll come with you." I glanced toward my sword, but left it on the couch. Seamus had probably overslept, and I still carried three knives.
"Ohhh, party in Seamo's room," Damien enthused.
"Must you sound like that stoner from Scooby-Doo?" Freya asked him.
Damien looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes. Yes I must."
Freya snorted and batted him on his arm.
Malachai gave them both a stern look and they fell silent. Damien even managed a serious expression for a few moments.
I shook my head and followed the team leader up the iron steps. Bordered on either side with cinder blocks, it added to the former factory ambience of the building. It probably never housed anything more industrial than a washing machine, but hipsters living in the area seemed to love it.
At the top of the stairs a short corridor led off in both directions. To the right was the master bedroom, which Malachai occupied, and several smaller rooms. The left side led to another three small bedrooms. At some point, bathrooms had been added to each, making them tinier still, but more functional.
Seamus occupied the room to the left, right at the end. Being the smallest, and closest to the street, it always went to the newest member of the team. The look of dismay on their faces when they saw it was something the veteran team member enjoyed watching. Existing team members vied with others for the chance to watch.
Seamus, I recalled, had simply smiled.
Malachai tapped on the door.
I peered over his shoulder. Muffled sounds came from inside before the door swung open.
"Hey." Seamus stood in the doorway, an enormous spider on the palm of his hand. It waved a pair of legs in the air.
I stepped back. "What the bloody hell?"
Malachai turned side-on, but also moved back slightly. He looked perturbed. "Seamus, why do you have a spider on your hand?"
"Isn't it cool? I found it on the window, so I opened it and let it in. It took a while, but it walked onto my hand. I can't believe I used to be terrified of these little guys."
I glanced at Malachai, who looked just as confused.
"Just yesterday you were petrified of a tiny, harmless spider. Today you're best friends?" I was ready to pull out a knife and end the hairy thing, then and there.
"Not best friends," Seamus replied. "I'm just not scared anymore."
"No fear," Malachai muttered.
"No need." Seamus shrugged. "It's harmless."
"Says you," I muttered. "Can you put the bloody thing back where you found it? Or better yet, squash it."
Seamus frowned. "It's not going to hurt you, I promise. Look it up if you like."
"No, I'm good." I backed away. "Now we know you're all right, I'll leave you and your new pet alone."
Malachai followed me back toward the stairs. Before I could descend, he put a hand on my arm.
"The shade said she'd take away fear?" he whispered.
"You think this is the start of that?" I asked. I glanced behind Malachai. Seamus was leaning out the window, hopefully freeing the spider.
"That would explain his sudden lack of what I would have considered a phobia. His demeanour has changed as well."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He's usually anxious around you. Eager to please. I've never seen him so calm. Collected."
"Maybe the spider bit him after all." That made more sense than the thought that he'd been scared of me.
"And maybe taking his fear meant leaving him with confidence," Malachai reasoned.
"Are you saying the demons did us a favour?" I leaned back and gave him a questioning look.
"Not necessarily. In Seamus' case, taking his fear didn't result in him becoming stupid. He probably looked up the spider on the 'net before letting it inside. Other people though…"
"Your lack of faith in humanity is noted," I said with a sigh. "I suppose you're right. People don't always consider consequences. Fear helps them from having to, in many cases."
"Alcohol does the opposite," he remarked.
"Taking fear could have the same result as a bunch of drunks on New Year's Eve. No common sense to be found."
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Potentially."
"So we need to keep an eye out for more people being more stupid than usual. Piece of cake." I grimaced.
"I think there will be more to it than that. As evidenced by Seamus, people might be more inclined to take risks. We might see an upswing in people breaking the law, for example."
I groaned and leaned against a wall. "Is there any chance Seamus is the only one? Maybe the shade was using him to distract us from something else. Wait—how did the shade get to him in the first place?" I looked back to his room. He stood straight, looking toward the window.
"Please don't tell me the spider…" I swallowed.
3
I searched the outside of the building for the spider.
Any spider.
The lack of arachnids was strange. All I found was the remains of old webs, tattered and flicking about in the light breeze.
"They look like no self-respecting spider has resided in them for a long time," Damien remarked. He spoke over my shoulder so suddenly I gasped.
I took a moment to regain my composure before asking, "Is there such a thing?"
"A self-respecting spider?" he asked. "Dunno. I mean, they eat bugs and scurry about." He mimed movement with his hand and fingers. "I suppose there isn't."
His action made me shudder. "Don't do that again."
"Do what?" He wiggled his fingers in front of me. "Oh, this."
I swatted at his hand. "Be serious, just for a minute or two."
He fixed me with an exaggerated serious look, frown and all. "You really think the spider had anything to do with it?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "I've never heard of demons using animals like that."
"Exactly."
"They usually eat them." I looked up at
Seamus' window, unable to contain another shudder. "That might explain the lack of spiders."
"So, one might have lurked around, waiting for Seamus to let go. Then wham! Gobble, gobble." Damien put his hands to his mouth as though savouring a delicacy of some kind.
"Well, I wouldn't have said it like that, but yeah. If a demon was that close…" I narrowed my eyes at him. "I guess we wouldn't know if you started acting strangely."
"Thanks." He grinned. "And we wouldn't know if your fear was gone."
"I feel fear," I replied quickly. "I'm just better at hiding it."
"Except when I do this." He wiggled his fingers again.
"I can cut those off if you can't keep them still," I offered. I patted the knife at my hip.
"Savage," he replied, unruffled. "So what do we do?"
"What can we do? Malachai just wants us to keep our eyes open. In the meantime, I think I'll follow the trail of no-spiders."
"Want me to come?"
"Nah." I waved him away. "Get some shut-eye."
"Didn't Malachai say not to go alone?" For once, his expression showed actual seriousness.
"It's broad daylight," I replied. "I'll be fine." I didn't need a nursemaid at night. I certainly didn't need one during the day. The chances of finding anything were tiny anyway. If demons ventured out in daytime, they usually went around looking like humans.
Unless one pulled a knife, or a tentacle, I might never know.
"I've seen, like, every horror movie known to humankind. They always say shit like that. I'm coming with you, like it or not." This was a rare moment of protectiveness from Damien, thinly veiled under a veneer of his love for all things macabre. I suspected that was why he'd become a Demon Hunter in the first place. His enjoyment of blood and gore was overshadowed only by all things weird.
"Have it your own way," I replied.
"From your lips to Freyo's ears," he said, giving an exaggerated sigh.
"Maybe if you tried calling her Freya once in a while…" I scanned the walls as I walked, eyes lingering on nooks and crannies, but seeing only old webs, grime and graffiti. Most of the latter was white.
Very innovative. Not.
"She'd still think I'm a dickhead." Damien followed close behind.
"I'm sure she doesn't think that." I tilted my head, but still couldn't make out what the splash of white spray over a doorway was supposed to be. It looked like the graffito had tried to paint a star, but the legs came out uneven.
"It looks like something," Damien remarked.
"What?" I squinted at it. "It's probably someone's idea of art."
"Yeah, but it kinda reminds me of something else." He scratched his head.
"A mess that'll cost hundreds to wash off?" I suggested.
"Haha, yeah. Apart from that though."
"Satanic symbol?"
"Maybe." He shrugged. "Hells, I dunno. It'll come to me if I don't think too hard."
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and took a photo of the—whatever it was—and the graffiti around it.
"I'll see if it means anything to any of the other teams." Hopefully they wouldn't laugh at her for sending it to them.
Then again, even if the graffiti represented nothing, it couldn't top the Demon Hunter from the Melbourne team who thought they once found a possessed adult toy—until someone pointed out where the off button was. I still chuckled over that one.
We walked the length of the block, looking for anything out of place, and stopped on the corner of a main arterial road. Steps led to a stained concrete and rusting steel overpass which housed a small train station. Little more than a platform with a couple of worn seats, commuters packed in, waiting for their morning trains to work or school.
A young man with dark hair, shaved on one side, leaned over the rail above the road. A constant stream of traffic passed beneath him.
"Jason, what the fuck are you doin'?" another young man called out. He laughed while he filmed the whole thing on his phone. Both boys wore uniforms from the local high school, as did several other teenagers who stood nearby.
"Don't stress, Johnno, I'm all right," Jason said over his shoulder. "Ain't that far to fall." He laughed.
"Seriously," I muttered. "Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between potentially under the influence of magic, and stupid as shit."
"That looks like both to me," Damien said. "On any given day I see plenty of people acting like idiots up there. They should build a higher rail."
"People would still climb it." I shrugged.
He raised a pointer finger and jerked it toward me. "True."
"Train!" One of the youth's shouts prompted everyone, even Jason, to hurry over to a pile of bags, grab up theirs and jostle for a position close to where the train would stop.
"At least they're enthusiastic about their education," Damien said approvingly.
"That seals it, they're under the influence of a demon," I joked.
The students pushed and shoved as they boarded the train and were gone, leaving only a few people who disembarked and now headed away from the station.
"Just an ordinary day," Damien remarked.
"You sound disappointed."
"You know me, I live for excitement. And Vegemite toast."
I sighed. "You're right. Whatever we're looking for, we're not going to find it here."
I wished I had some idea of what "it" even was. The potential for this whole thing to be a wild goose chase was reasonably high. Maybe Seamus had genuinely worked past his fear.
And yet, my instincts told me I was right to be looking.
"You okay?" Damien countered his apparent concern by giving me a light jab on the shoulder. "That expression is usually reserved for Malachai." He drew his face into an exaggerated frown and swung his head left and right as though physically looking for trouble.
"What? Being careful? Is that a bad thing now?" I blinked. "I'm not behaving irrationally am I?"
"No more than usual," he replied. He grinned when I swatted his arm.
"I know where you live, you know." I waved a finger at him in a mock threat.
"Funny that," he replied. "I know where you live and I can pick locks."
I grimaced. His skill was handy at times, and a hindrance at others. While he wouldn't unlock a bathroom door while anyone was showering, he might open a secure cupboard and eat the last of my chocolate. He would replace it later. Usually. That didn't help if I had a craving.
"I only forgot one time," he protested. Evidently the look on my face suggested what I was thinking. I hadn't licked my lips, had I?
"Yeah, yeah and you replaced it with two packets," I said ruefully. "One of which you ate anyway."
"I had the munchies." He pretended to sulk. "Demon hunting is hungry work." He brightened. "Which brings me back to Vegemite toast."
A squeal of tyres made me jump and turn.
On the other side of the street, a blue sedan skidded, screeching toward a woman who was crossing. She looked straight ahead, apparently oblivious to the vehicle headed straight for her. At the last second, the driver spun the wheel and the car went the last few metres side-on, narrowly missing a truck. The sedan stopped an arm-span from the woman.
She turned slowly and stared at it, as though surprised to see it there.
"You fucking idiot!" The sedan driver leapt from her car and waved a fist at the pedestrian.
The woman shrugged and kept walking until she reached the sidewalk.
"Usually I'd expect to see someone on their phone do that," Damien commented.
"Drugs?" I suggested.
"Yeah, maybe."
The driver of the sedan climbed back into her vehicle and drove on, much to my relief. The situation could have gotten ugly.
"We should make sure she's okay," I said. "She might need medical treatment."
In this part of the city, there should be a safe injecting room, where a doctor or nurse could help. If people were going to use illicit drugs, at least they could ac
cess clean needles and use them under medical supervision.
"Demons are bad enough in this world," Damien remarked as they crossed the street in the direction the woman had gone.
"We don't even know if it is drugs yet," I reminded him.
"True. She might really just be a fucking idiot."
"She might also be hearing impaired."
"Ah," he replied slowly. "Good point. Although, she didn't look before she stepped out. I'm not taking "fucking idiot" off the table just yet."
"Suit yourself."
They followed the woman until she turned into a pedestrian mall. A throng of people doing early shopping or heading to work obscured her for several seconds.
"There." Damien pointed. "How is she moving so quickly?"
She was ducking and weaving through the crowds like she was suddenly in a hurry.
"Maybe she's up to something," I suggested. That would explain her distraction a few moments ago.
I started trotting, which earned me a few dirty looks from people I all but shoved past. I rushed around a hat belonging to a busker singing and playing the latest radio hit on an accordion.
"Nice job." I paused long enough to fish a couple of coins out of my pocket and toss them into the hat.
The busker nodded and went on singing without missing a beat.
"Where is she?" I resumed jogging as Damien caught up with me.
"She's going into the fast food place."
Sure enough, the woman stepped into a small Wacca's restaurant fifty metres ahead.
"Caught ya now," Damien said gleefully.
We stepped inside and into the line right behind the woman. She ordered a breakfast meal and a coffee and paid with a tap of her phone.
I glanced at Damien.
He shrugged. The woman seemed perfectly lucid.
As the woman took her food and moved away from the counter, I saw her eyes.
No dilated pupils, no red rims, no hint of glazing. Nothing to suggest she took any illicit substances, or was under the influence of demons or anything else. Nothing to suggest she planned anything nefarious.
"Can I help you?" The young man at the counter interrupted my staring, which was fortunate. Any longer and things might have become awkward or suspicious.
"Uh, sure." We might as well order while they were here. "Just a coffee and a chocolate muffin please."
Hunting Darkness (City of Darkness Book 1) Page 2
