When Hunter Meets Seeker: (An Arcane Society Novel - Paranormal Demon Romance)

by Betty Shreffler

  “A combination of fear and anger. That’s what makes them come out. And they’re bulletproof.”

  Jackson stared at her, confused. “Your tattoos, your wings?”

  “Yes, they come out when I’m angry and well, terrified. I was in the wrong place at the right time tonight and almost got shot. The wings…they’re bulletproof!”

  Jackson folded his arms, staring at her in disbelief. “Wait! What? What do you mean you almost got shot? Are you sure you’re okay? This all sounds a little…” His face contorted. “Crazy.”

  Anya rolled her eyes. Even she had to admit it sounded crazy. “I know how it sounds. It wouldn’t sound so crazy if I could control them and make them come out at will. Then I could show you.”

  She didn’t see his reaction. Her phone buzzed and she pulled it from her pocket to look at it. Orders from the Arcane Society. Apparently everything was as usual and they had a job for her to do.

  Incubus Demon. Chris Donatello. 1453 Tipton Street. Contact, cancel and report.

  Anya swallowed the enlarged lump in her throat.

  “Did you just get an order?”

  She nodded. “Do you remember the owner’s name at Donatello’s?”

  “Yeah, let me think. Joe met him recently. His name’s…ah…Carl…Carl Donatello. Why?”

  “Do you know if he has a son or relative named Chris?”

  Jackson shrugged.

  “I think I just got an order to kill someone he might be related to.”

  Jackson’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”

  “Grab your jacket. We’re going to Donatello’s to meet Carl and find out who this Chris is and why the Arcane Society wants him killed.”

  Jackson grabbed his jacket, his trepidation apparent on his face. “You sure I should go?”

  “Yes. If I get pissed or scared enough, hopefully the wings will come out and then you can stop treating me like I’m nuts.”

  “Great, I’ll get to see them before I’m sliced up and murdered by a demon.”

  They walked out the door, headed for the parking lot.

  “Relax, incubi and succubi are lovers, not fighters, as you well know. Besides, you’re not going in to the meeting with me. You’re going to be my distraction.”

  “Distraction?”

  “Yeah, pick a fight with someone, preferably someone who won’t pummel you. Then once you’ve got the attention of security, I’ll slip by them and pay Carl a visit.”

  Jackson turned on his heels. “I’m not going.”

  Anya grabbed his jacket sleeve and pulled him back around. “Don’t be a sissy. It’s your chance to show off the fighting skills I’ve taught you.”

  Anya looked back at Jackson and frowned at the intentional dragging of his feet through the entrance hallway of the club.

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Yes, let me hurry to my face-crunching party.”

  “You’ll be fine. Fists to cheeks and block before they make contact.”

  “Easy for you, you have wicked fast reflexes.”

  Anya slowed to meet Jackson’s pace. “I thought you’d be a little more excited.”

  “I’m worried about the dark-eyed demon friend of yours dragging my face across the floor, not the unwitting drunk dude I’m going to pick a fight with.”

  “Okay, yeah, you have a point there. I’ve seen him fight. He fights like a freaking bear. Stop the fight before he reaches you. He’ll probably recognize you and be quick to investigate if I’m there.” She stopped and reached down into her ankle boot. “Here. If things don’t go as planned and you find yourself in a sticky situation, use this. Don’t actually touch any demon with it, just wave it around like you know what to do with it.” She handed him the four-inch gold dagger.

  Jackson’s eyes bulged as he took the blade from her hand. “If I get killed by a demon, I will never forgive you. I will literally be waiting on the other side to sucker-punch you in the face.”

  Anya laughed. “No one is going to kill you.”

  They entered the club, the loud music upbeat and pumping out a hip-shaking dance song.

  “This place is packed. Even better.” She nodded to the bar. “Let’s get a drink. I think we both could use one.”

  She straddled the barstool and nodded to the bald, tatted bartender. “Four shots of Patrón.”

  He served and they chugged. She smiled at Jackson. “Liquid courage.”

  “For me or for you?”

  “Both.”

  She swiveled on the stool as the liquor warmed her. She glanced out into the crowd, then scanned the bar around her.

  “Time for the show.” She winked at Jackson, who grimaced.

  She hopped off the barstool and walked to the end of the bar past an average-sized guy with a lip piercing and spiked hair. He looked like Jackson could take him in a fair fight. She rubbed up against him and he turned, eyeing her behind. She glanced back and smiled.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” She nodded.

  He motioned for her to join him. She slid onto the stool next to him.

  “Pretty eyes.” How many times had she heard that one?

  “Thank you.” She batted her lashes.

  “What’s your name?”

  She didn’t have to answer. Jackson approached, towering over them with his shoulders and chest out.

  “That’s my girl you’re flirting with.”

  The guy turned, sizing Jackson up. He puffed his own chest out. “Maybe if you kept her entertained she wouldn’t have to look elsewhere.”

  Oh snap, she’d picked the right guy. Jackson swung, and fist smacked cheekbone. That was her cue. She hopped off the stool and headed into the crowd. Raised, excited voices and the shout of the bartender yelling sounded in the distance behind her. Guilt tickled her belly, but she knew full well Jackson would handle himself just fine. Probably come out without a scratch on him other than some bruised knuckles.

  She moved quickly through the crowd, seeing the security door just ahead. She dove for a pillar and the cover of shadows as the door swung open. Dex and Greg ran past her, not even noticing her presence. She almost got distracted staring at his toned physique bulldozing through the crowd. She lunged for the closing door. She slipped in and headed down the hall, finding the stairs by memory. She made her way up them and read each door until she found the one that read, Management. The door was locked, so she knocked.

  A taller than average man with a head full of fuzzy, blondish-red hair and a bit of a potbelly opened the door. He eyed her inquisitively. “Here for an application?”

  “Yes,” she lied.

  The man waved her in.

  “Are you Carl Donatello?”

  He glanced back, giving her a look that made her skin crawl. “I am.”

  He went behind his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a white sheet of paper. He handed it to her and looked her body up and down.

  “You definitely have the looks. What position you looking for?”

  “Bartender.”

  He frowned. “Pity, the VIPs would go nuts over that body and those eyes.”

  “Can I fill it out here?”

  “Sure.” He flipped papers over on his messy desk looking for a pen. “Here.” He handed it to her. “You can fill it out at the table there. What’s your name, princess?”

  The term of endearment made her cringe. “Anya.”

  “You sure you aren’t interested in dancing or entertaining, Anya? I don’t have an opening for a bartender, but I had an employee quit recently. You could have her position.”

  “What position is that?”

  “Can I be frank with you?”

  “Of course.” She gave a toothy grin.

  “Her position was an exotic dancer. Sometimes her regulars would pay a little extra for a little extra, if you know what I mean?”

  Anya clicked her tongue against her cheek. “Yes, actually I know exactly what you mean. It’s a perfect job for a succubus.”

&
nbsp; Carl’s face puckered, becoming serious.

  “Don’t worry, I’m a demon myself, mixed demon actually. Recently discovered. Your club seems to be the place for us demons to find decent work.”

  Carl cleared his throat. His muscles tensed. “Yes, it is. How’d you know she was a succubus?”

  “I met her. Serena, right?”

  His nostrils flared and his pupils dilated. She was making him nervous. “Yeah, she quit unexpectedly.”

  “You mean she was killed by a hunter?”

  He tilted his head as his hands fidgeted. “How did you find out about that?”

  “I’m the hunter that killed her.”

  Dex held the man’s arm locked behind his back as he escorted him out of the club. “I know you, don’t I?”

  “I don’t think so,” Jackson replied.

  “No, I know I’ve seen you here before. You were one of Serena’s clients, weren’t you?”

  Dex shoved him through the door, staring at him expectantly.

  “Yeah, I was. I came back to see her. Got told she doesn’t work here anymore.”

  Dex eyed him suspiciously. “What was the bar fight about?”

  “Dude got handsy with a friend and mouthed off to me.”

  Dex tilted his head. “Must be some friend to get in a bar fight over her. Where is she?”

  Jackson shrugged. “Don’t know. I’ll give her a call and tell her to meet me out here. I assume you aren’t going to let me back in to look for her.”

  Dex shook his head. “Not tonight, pal. You’ve had too much to drink and I can’t risk you starting another fight. What’s she look like? I’ll try to find her for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call her and wait.”

  Dex nodded. “Don’t bring that kind of behavior into this club again or I’ll have to ban you from the club.”

  Jackson put his hands in the air as an indication of defeat. “Sorry, man. Won’t happen again.”

  Dex returned to the office, something familiar about the guy still bugged him. He sat in his office chair and typed commands into the keyboard. Moments later the feed from the bar fifteen minutes prior appeared on his main screen. He watched the pierced-lip, spike-haired guy put down a couple shots and then he saw her. She rubbed along the guy’s arm, invited him in for conversation, joined him, and then her friend showed. She slipped out as the fight began.

  “Damn it,” he barked.

  Al and Greg stared at him.

  “She’s back. Find her. She’s somewhere in this club. That fight was a distraction.”

  Al and Greg hit keys with rapid fire.

  “Got her. The hall camera caught her. She took the steps…” There was a pause that made Dex very uncomfortable. He stared at Greg, his nerves bunching. “She’s in Carl’s office.” Greg stared at him in surprise.

  Dex bolted out the door.

  Dex swung the door open, his fists clenched. His rage subsided when he saw her sitting cross-legged on the edge of Carl’s desk. Carl was sitting back in his chair, alive and looking oddly comfortable.

  Anya turned to him and smiled. His chest loosened at the desire and joy that spread over her face.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Carl waved his hand in the air. “Relax, Dex. She’s not here to kill me, right?” Carl eyed her nervously.

  Anya stood from the desk, admiring Dex’s dark possessive eyes debating whether or not he wanted to hug or slug her.

  “It’s good to see you, Dex.”

  His thoughts were bouncing around in his head like plastic marbles in a child’s ball pit. He wasn’t sure how to react so he waited for an explanation.

  “I’d like to say it’s good to see you too, but I’m not yet sure that’s the truth.”

  She smiled at his comment, clearly entertained by it.

  “I’m here to get to know your boss better, to find out if he has any relatives. Did you know he has a younger half brother named Chris?”

  Dex looked at Carl, hoping for an explanation. Carl watched Anya carefully, more concerned with her actions than Dex’s.

  “Remember how I told you I wanted to live a normal life and stop taking orders from the Arcane Society?”

  Dex nodded, not understanding where this conversation was leading. “Yes.”

  “I meant it. I received an order to kill Carl’s brother. Instead I came here to learn why the Arcane Society might want to kill him. I learned that it’s not Chris they want. It’s Carl. It’s this whole club. It’s full of demons. Carl refused to shut down, so the Arcane Society decided to take out his brother as a show of what can happen when you don’t follow their orders. I have no intention of killing Carl or Chris. I came here for answers and now that I got them, I’ll see myself out.”

  Irritation tightened his chest. “Anya, you can’t keep waltzing in here whenever you please. You may not be taking orders from the Arcane Society anymore, but that doesn’t mean we can trust you.”

  Anya studied his dark untrusting eyes, tight jaw and sexy, serious expression. Was he speaking on behalf of his co-workers or just himself?

  “You’re right. You can’t trust me. I have to earn that. But I believe not killing Chris, Carl and you is a pretty damn good start.”

  She walked past him, eyeing him with those mixed-colored eyes of hers. He smelled her desire and his brain and emotions lost any grip they had on anger.

  “How’d it go?” Jackson asked as she approached his car. Jackson was leaning against his door with his hands in his pockets. As she got close he moved away and opened the driver’s side.

  “Better than expected. You look unscathed.”

  Jackson grinned. “You should see the other guy.”

  “You didn’t bang him up too badly, did you?”

  He shook his head. “Your demon boyfriend was there instantly. Only got a couple shots in.”

  Relief filled her. She hopped into the passenger seat.

  “Did you find anything out?”

  “Yeah, the Arcane Society put a hit out on Carl’s brother, Chris, because Carl refused to shut down this club. What goes on in the back may be deviant, but it serves a purpose. The demons get jobs and have their needs fulfilled and the clients are satisfied and none the wiser. As long as they don’t cross the line.” She gave Jackson a knowing look.

  “So, what now? You’ve disobeyed an order. What do you think will happen?”

  “I told Carl to have Chris lay low. They’ll send another demon hunter after him if I don’t report in that he’s been canceled. Then I wait. Emerson might call me in. I don’t know for sure. I’ve never disobeyed an order.”

  “What about this shadow walker?”

  “He’s going to be dealt with tonight.”

  Chapter 13

  Anya opened the door to her well-lit apartment. She tossed her shoes and made her way to her supplies. She grabbed the vial of salt then went to her closet and opened the hidden safe where her weapons were stored. She scanned them, searching for her gold, five-point throwing star. She found it and ran her finger over the smooth metal, remembering Dillon’s lesson. This was no ordinary throwing star. It was a havaliene star, created long ago by monks of the Catholic Church, specifically for the destruction of shadow walkers. Once thrown, it would tear an opening in the flesh of the demon, weakening it enough that its ability to remain in the shadows would falter. Shadow would become flesh and death would await him.

  She held it firmly as she made her way to her living room. She flicked off the lights around her and stood, waiting.

  The air around her tightened as though it was being pulled from the room. The temperature shifted. She hardened her stance.

  “This is intimate. I like it,” a low, ominous voice whispered through the darkness. “Create this little space just for us?”

  Fear constricted her throat. She swallowed it down as she used her thumb to pop the cork of the vial.

  “It speaks.” She tried to sound confident. Her eyes shifted thro
ugh the shadows, frantically searching for movement. Nothing moved. The darkness remained a veil of unknown torment.

  “I hoped we’d have time alone together, Anya Carlisle. I’ve been eagerly awaiting wrapping my hands around that pretty little throat of yours.”

  “I thought you shadow walkers were neutral. Why come after me?”

  “You’re a valuable asset. An asset that someone has paid greatly to have removed.”

  “Who? What do you get out of this?”

  A foreboding laugh filled the air around her. She couldn’t pinpoint his location. Anger filled her insides, bunking next to her fear.

  “My reasoning is no concern of yours. Now, shall we begin?”

  The air thickened, making it hard to breathe. Movement twisted in the shadows around her. A gust came through the air. Contact with her hand had the vial of salt flipping through the air and landing somewhere she couldn’t see. Some must have hit the demon. A ripple flickered in the darkness revealing a man-like creature and then it evaporated into nothing.

  “What else are you hiding?” The eerie whisper came through the darkness, penetrating her ears, sending a shiver down her spine.

  Her fear and anger exploded. The mild burning sensation spread over her back, shoulders and arms and then the tattoos expanded, lifting off her skin, forming large, dense wings nearly black as the shadows, save the glimmer of dark brown saturating the fine barbs of the feathers.

  “Come a little closer and find out,” she coaxed.

  “Looks like someone has spread her wings and become one of us.” The eerie voice seemed proud.

  “I’m not one of you, demon. I’m nothing like you.”

  The whisper moved, coming from her side now. The shift in the air had her right wing recoiling as if it feared touching what lingered in the darkness.

  “You’re just like me…” The words slid off his tongue like a snake’s hiss.

  Her wings suddenly spread wide and flapped rapidly, startling her. The drift in the air made breathing easier and she could see the demon’s outline in the ripples of the moving air. She threw the star toward the outline and knew she’d made contact when she heard a raspy grunt escape his lips.

  The man-like creature solidified, its shadowy cover fading. Darkness became a grayish cream figure. His long, black hair hung over his shoulders and his black eyes pierced hers. He lunged after her, fangs displayed beneath his curled lip. Her beautiful black wings came forward, folding around her, protecting her from his sharp nails and strong hands. He slammed against the tips of the wings and they pushed outward, flinging his body through the air. He crashed into the wall. His black eyes narrowed on her. He seemed to fly through the air with his speed. She instinctively turned and her left wing collided into his body, solid as an iron gate. His body crumbled to the floor, churning in agony. She grabbed the brown bead on her belt and yanked. The gold wire swam through the air. She claimed it in her hands and pounced on the demon, straddling him as she shoved the wire through his throat. Demon residue spread over her tile floor before evaporating into the air like mist.