The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-6: A Complete Paranormal Romantic Comedy Series

by Deborah Wilde

  With Malik bound, he could never hurt me again. The paper crown turned to ash in my hands. Hmm. Malik’s wrongs towards me personally were pretty minor on the scale of things. Lilith on the other hand…

  Lilith’s magic was dangerous and had to go before I was lost to being some pale shadow of her, living out her hurts and vendettas. The attack on us last night had shaken me to my core. Big bads were crawling out of the woodwork to come after me and mine, but this situation with Lilith was crumbling me from within.

  I brushed the ash off. “You want me to swear some kind of oath that I won’t use the ring on you? I will. A one-time usage then I’ll destroy it, but this is the only way I can take Satan down. I’ll kill myself before I let him use me like that.”

  “One time,” Malik finally said. He crossed the room and picked up the discarded circlet halves. “To bind a demon with the ring, you need to call him by his true name.”

  The ring wasn’t so much a mass exorcismy device as a one-at-a-time tool. There went my fantasies of binding all the demons in existence at once and forcing them to kill each other, game over, buh-bye.

  “Which is what?” I said.

  “I have no idea. You’ll have to pull it from Satan’s memories.”

  “Don’t overwhelm me with useful details or anything. We bind Satan, what then?”

  “You have to keep the throne clear. It’s sentient. The throne. Whichever demon sits on it first must undergo a trial to claim it. If another demon touches the throne before I’ve solidified my claim, I die.” He wiped off a daub of paint that had gotten on one of the circlet halves.

  “What do demons without the benefit of me do?”

  “They have their entire clan at their back.”

  “We can be your family!” I said. “Temporary clan. Who will then probably murder you sometime in the future, but we’re living in the moment.”

  “You’re amusing. Baffling, but amusing.” His expression turned wistful. “Though you’re not as smart as you think you are. This wasn’t my crown. Lilith was supposed to rule with me. My family made it clear that wasn’t an option.”

  “You gave up the throne for Lilith. Now take it for her.”

  Malik brushed his hand over the two halves, making them whole once more, and put on the crown. “All the better to kill you later.”

  I called Catalina while I was in the elevator. “It’s a go for Satan’s blood. How much will I need?”

  “A vial should do,” she said. “We’ll mix it with the purified water for your immersion.”

  “What about the mikvah bath?”

  “We’ve already ordered one online that’s in accordance with the laws of Judaism.”

  “The internet is an amazing place.”

  “We have the magic flame,” she said, “so once I’ve decoded the purification ritual, all that remains is a way to seal the mikvah with some kind of resin, so the magic doesn’t eat through it. I haven’t found anything strong enough yet, but I’m working on it.”

  “Could the ritual be modified to dump all traces of Lilith but still leave my enhanced magic?”

  “No. You’re stronger than you were precisely because of the lingering remnants of Lilith inside you amplifying your magic. Do you not want to do it?”

  Was “yes, but no” an acceptable answer? I wanted Lilith gone, no doubts on that score, because I wouldn’t rest easy in my own skin until she was, but after the Night of Fog and Monsters, every bit of enhanced magic had become a security blanket that I took comfort in.

  “Totally committed.” I’d still have my regular witch magic. “Are we sealing me as well? Is the magic going to eat the flesh off my bones?”

  “Highly unlikely.”

  Between that reassuring note and the continual joys of dealing with Malik, I was very glad that my next stop was a training session that Rohan had insisted on before we met up with Kyle. Punching things good.

  We no longer had the Vault, but that didn’t mean I was stuck in a sweaty gym with a bunch of strange men watching and commenting. Rohan had rented a boxing gym out so it was just the two of us, able to train and more importantly, speak freely. The gym walls were crumbling exposed brick and the air smelled like rancid sweat from inside of a boxing glove combined with bruised leather and grubby canvas.

  Ro had already put me through a punishing circuit of pull-ups, squats, the dreaded burpees, jumping on and off low benches, and working with a medicine ball.

  I’d been grossly sweaty, my limbs shaking after that. Then he got me in the ring. Two minutes running around on that canvas and I was panting, my heart booming like a timpani. The padded floor in the ring fatigued my legs much faster than the mats I usually trained on.

  “The challenge is opening a rift to the demon realm so we can go through.” I threw a right hook at Rohan, who easily dodged it.

  He tsked me. “Baruch would weep.”

  “Which is why you’re not going to tell him. I’m just rusty.”

  Ro tapped me with his mitt every time I dropped my guard.

  I worked on the combo he demonstrated. Jab-jab-jab-left hook-right cross. “Think of the wards as a line in the sand with evil, the demon realm, on one side, and good, earth, on the other. Demons have to work at coming through, at crossing that line, hence the use of poison that creates rifts in the fabric of reality. The process is hard and it’s painful, but the wards don’t care about them returning to their own side. That’s a quick portal deal for them. We’re facing the same issue in reverse. We need to reliably open a rift into the demon realm that will allow all of us through.”

  “Too many rifts,” Rohan said. “Call this one something else.”

  “Good point. I dub the one we need to open ‘Hellgate.’”

  Rohan jabbed the side of my rib cage, then hiked up the workout shorts he’d borrowed off Ari. “Open Hellgate and not get injured in the process.”

  “Exactly. Malik is working on how to make that happen. Getting home will be easy enough, because it’ll be a portal and those are a snap.”

  “Provided we’re alive.”

  “Sure, that.”

  “Why doesn’t Malik open a portal for us and bring us all home with him?” Rohan stepped up his attack.

  “Only things with a demon magic signature can return home via a portal. Malik’s gateway would kill you.”

  “But not you?”

  Guess that would depend of how much of Lilith’s dark magic was in me. Shrugging, I drove him back with a flurry of light punches. “Why are you so testy?”

  “I don’t like the plan.”

  It was as simple as possible. Go through Hellgate into the demon realm, jump directly to the court, then split our attack between killing the guards and holding the throne clear for Malik to claim.

  “You don’t like it because you don’t want me using the ring,” I said.

  “That and the entire thing. You’re trusting a demon to not double-cross us.”

  “I don’t trust Malik. I trust his desire for the throne. He was born to this.”

  “Just because you were born to something doesn’t mean you want it or have to take it.” Ro’s hands were too fucking fast. He was a silky menace.

  The boxing ring felt huge and confining at the same time. I couldn’t duck under his fists or slip sideways, couldn’t land a hit. I was trapped, my back against the ropes.

  His punches were battering rams pummeling my ribs and abs. He found every weak link in my defense and struck with surgical precision.

  The harder he came at me, the more I ached to land a punch and solidly connect with muscle, but my first few attempts were wild lashes that got me nowhere.

  Dark, submerged tendrils curled inside me. I held my magic in check, vibrating hard enough to shatter glass. I harnessed the chaos and adrenaline within me, converting it into a fluid motion from my hip to my fist.

  Throwing that punch was fantastic.

  Connecting was orgasmic. A physical, primal thrill that resonated deep in my gut.


  I drove Rohan back until I had him trapped on the other side of the ring, then I slammed a perfect uppercut into his jaw that sent him bouncing off the ropes.

  Chest heaving, I tore my gloves off with a snarl and flung them at him. “What was that?”

  “You gonna wait that long to fight back when you’re facing Satan and the upper echelon of demons?” he said.

  “I was trying to not kill you.”

  “No excuses. You froze. If you can’t use one type of attack you immediately switch to another.”

  My anger melted away. His point had been valid. I couldn’t freeze up when I was facing Satan. “Is it going to be just me?”

  Rohan pulled off his own gloves. “When the other Rasha learn you’re willingly helping a demon become Satan? You could lose the ones you didn’t already drive away when you joined up with the witches.”

  “What about you?”

  “Earth, demon realm, I don’t give a shit where. I always have your back.” His brows furrowed. “Did you really think otherwise?”

  “No, but sometimes I feel like I’m living in this crazy big top, riding on the back of an elephant while spinning plates and juggling balls. And I look out at you, the one person in the audience who I always find, who I always make sure is there, and I wonder if today is the day when you’ll tire of the circus.”

  “Yeah, well, I wonder when you’ll have had enough emo and want some happy pop song.”

  “Is that what you’re trying to write? Happy pop songs?”

  Ro leveled me with a flat stare that was so loaded with how unimpressed he was that I smirked. “I’m trying to find the dimensions in my music,” he said. “In my life. It’s okay if sometimes you’re in the big top, because the circus is also cotton candy, clowns, and adrenaline-packed high wire acts.”

  “That’s deep, Mitra.”

  He grinned. “I am nothing if not profound.”

  “Great,” I said. “Then you can use your profundity to convince the witches and Rasha that taking out the old guard puts us way ahead of where we are now. There’s always going to be a Satan and we know what we’re getting with this one.” I tilted my head. “Or just use your pretty face and charm them.”

  Rohan rubbed his jaw. “Not so pretty now.”

  I huffed a laugh. “Aw, baby. Did I break you?”

  “Yes.” He pouted.

  “Want me to kiss it better?”

  He tipped his bruised jaw up to me and I pressed the gentlest kiss to it.

  “That was a damn good uppercut,” he said.

  “It was, wasn’t it? You know, you bruised me way more. You going to kiss it better?”

  He flipped our positions and backed me up against the ropes. “Hold on and don’t let go.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  Ro dropped to his knees, yanked my dance shorts down to my ankles, and licked Cuntessa. He shot me a lopsided, cocky grin. “That.”

  A ragged moan escaped me and I held on. The rope cut into my sweat-soaked wrist wraps, the woven red strips wound across my palms, over my knuckles, and between my fingers. The boxers in the various fight posters papering the brick walls were two dozen voyeurs too many, so I focused on the top of Rohan’s dark head.

  He ran his fingers up my leg, dipping butterfly kisses closer and closer to Cuntessa, before pulling back and suckling on my right thigh, lighting up all the nerves in that area with his blowing, licking, and kissing.

  I giggled, twisting half-sideways.

  “Ticklish?”

  “A bit. Ohhh.”

  He exhaled, warm air caressing my labia and sending shivers down my legs. He licked Cuntessa slow and gentle in tiny circles. His tongue was warm and soft and I was rapidly becoming a drenched mess.

  His eyes flicked up to mine with a darkly knowing look and I squirmed, my grip on the ropes the only thing holding me upright. Ro let out small moans that vibrated through me, making me even wetter, and then he slipped a finger inside me and I was lost.

  I’d spent so long keeping my walls intact, but with Rohan, I happily let them tumble down. I was a million times stronger giving him my heart and soul than I was when I’d so rigidly guarded myself.

  I thrashed against the ropes, my growing cries echoing off the walls.

  A metal door clanged.

  “That’s the security door downstairs.” Ro’s eyes were alight with mischief. “Stop or go?”

  My heart hammered almost as badly as my clit throbbed.

  I pushed his head between my legs again.

  “Rohan?” The gym manager Hank’s heavy tread of footsteps slowly came up the stairs.

  Ro licked me faster, sloppier, thrusting two fingers in and out of my cunt.

  The lower half of my body clenched, my orgasm building like a tornado.

  Hank’s phone rang. He was practically at the top of the stairs, but he mercifully stayed where he was to chat about some delivery.

  I stuffed a hand in my mouth, my hips bucking.

  Rohan growled against me and that was it. I shattered. And if I had to lose my lazy afterglow to scamper back into my shorts, the sacrifice was well worth it.

  Chapter 16

  Ari called me while I was throwing the second-tier clothing that I’d left at my parents’ house for a reason when I’d moved out, into a suitcase. Clothing was a necessity and I’d chanced this quick stop. Luckily, my emergency credit card was still stashed here and I’d put my passport into my folks’ small safe when I’d returned from Los Angeles the last time, so I had some identification and access to money should I need them.

  The good news was that Ms. Clara was awake and was going to be fine. The even better news?

  “Put him on!” I squealed.

  “Navela?” Rabbi Abrams sounded subdued.

  “Rabbi, are you okay? Did Sienna hurt you?”

  “She was very solicitous. We were treated with care and compassion.”

  Rabbis could wield limited magic, such as the ritual spell to induct initiates, but they didn’t have inherent magic, so Sienna wouldn’t have conducted her experiments on them.

  “Did Rabbi Mandelbaum free you? How did you get away from him?”

  “Boris asked me if I’d join his Sanhedrin. I chose not to and he let me leave. You’re okay? I’ll see you soon?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  Ari spoke a few words with the Rabbi and then took the phone back. “Nee. Sienna wiped their memories.”

  “What do you mean? He sounded fine.” I flicked Esther’s lighter, my talisman, the motion soothing.

  “The induction ritual. Kane and I were asking Rabbi Abrams questions and he had no idea what we were talking about. If Sienna has destroyed the archived information about it, then we have no way to make new Rasha.”

  I sparked a hole in the one sweater I still owned that was halfway decent. “What about the ritual I performed on you?”

  “Already asked the witches. It was specific to our connection. There’s one woman here, Sofia, from Milan. She’s sympathetic and promised to suss out what information the witches have, given that it was Lilith who originally created Rasha.”

  The one memory it would be useful to have. It was a point in favor of digging into my brain and finding out what exactly I knew thanks to Lilith.

  I folded the sweater and added it to the suitcase. “Rasha creation was only supposed to be a one-time thing.”

  Great. Now I sounded like Sienna.

  “It is what it is,” Ari said. “Also, it’s true Mandelbaum let Rabbi A go, but he didn’t need him. All the rest of the rabbis threw their lot in with Mandelbaum. They’re onboard for End of Days if it gets them the Mashiach. He has more than enough men for his rabbinic High Council.”

  A world ruled by their Jewish patriarchy was paradise to them, the human cost irrelevant.

  “Listen, Ace. I’m tracking down this Kyle dude tonight, but tomorrow we’ll come to Los Angeles. Gather the troops for a meeting.”

  “On it. Good luck.”<
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  “You too.”

  As soon as I’d hung up, I lugged the suitcase downstairs and into the carport out back to wait for Rohan, Leo, and Drio. Leo had kindly offered to drive the guys to the mall so they could buy some clothes. I placed a quick call to the Heavenly Pleasure Gentleman’s Club to confirm the start of Kyle’s shift only to be told by a very cagey person that he’d quit.

  “That was sudden. When did this happen?”

  “About two hours ago, eh?” The man on the other end of the phone spoke with such a broad Canadian prairie accent that he’d actually said “aboot.” I could have smacked him for pandering to the worst American stereotypes about us. Then he added a “sorry” for good measure and hung up.

  Leo pulled up. Drio had been banished to the back seat, but he’d shaved. Unabomber hadn’t been a good look on him.

  Ro got out of the passenger seat to throw my suitcase in the trunk. He took advantage of the popped trunk to kiss me, pressing his hard-on against my thigh. “I should have booked the gym for longer.”

  I laughed. “Sucks to be you.”

  A car door slammed.

  “Someone else drive,” Drio demanded, interrupting further kissing.

  “I heard that.” Leo got out of the car and shut the trunk. “I’m a model of good driving.”

  The sound of a car speeding toward us grew louder.

  Unease prickled along the back of my neck. My parents lived in a boring residential area I called “the land without soul.” The biggest danger was distracted drivers, not drive-bys. I peered down the back lane.

  A black van fishtailed around the corner at the far end, veering straight for us. The passenger window lowered and a rifle barrel popped out. The ensuing gunfire wasn’t the chaotic percussion of fireworks. It was single, repetitive cracks with an undertone of bass, bullets expelled in a cloud of powder gases. They embedded in the back bumper of Leo’s car.

  “Va fungul!” Drio wrenched the back door open.

  Leo shoved him and me into the back like a pair of dominos.