by Parker,Lori
To End the Rapture
By Lori Parker
Copyright © 2016 by Lori Parker
Cover design by Contagious Covers
Editing by Contagious Edits
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Table of Contents
To End the Rapture
Table of Contents
Dedication
Author’s Note:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Music
About the Book
About the Author
Dedication
To Maria, the next Supreme.
Author’s Note:
To End the Rapture contains adult material. There are curse words, sex scenes, and even some drug use. It’s rated firmly NA, and is not intended for younger readers.
Chapter One
Aug. 26, 2013 –Pella, Ia. Hellgate
The town is on the small side. Roughly eleven thousand, give or take a few. But it has its fair share of demons. You wouldn’t think so, not with the overabundance of churches. You would be, in fact, very wrong to assume it was a fount of holiness. This town hid their demons well. Both the literal and the figurative kind.
People think places like this are good. They think that these quaint little towns are empty of evil. Full of ignorance, sure, but no true evil.
There are good people here, but they’re blind to the war going on. A war between heaven and hell. It’s not being fought in places like Las Vegas or Los Angeles. There, the battle is over; won, in fact, by the bad guys.
Now, the war is here, in the heart of America. It’s here where the real battles are fought. It’s here that there are still souls left to lose. It’s here that I’ve run to, to get away from my problems. I don’t know for certain if this is one of the Hellgates and it’s definitely not why I chose to move here, but the town just seems a little too perfect to be normal now that I am in my hunting frame of mind.
My journal lays open on the bar in front of me. I scrawl my notes frantically, wanting to purge my thoughts onto the page before I lose them.
They’re nothing really, just my impressions of the town that I had just chosen to set up as my basecamp, yet if someone happens to see the amount of spouting I do about wars and demons in it, I’d be committed. Again.
Not many people believe in the supernatural anymore. Which makes my job both a little bit harder and a little bit easier. It’s easier to fly under the radar when hunting demons, because people will believe any excuse I give them. I could make up any story, and they would readily accept it. But at the same time, it’s hard to find hard evidence when everything is brushed off as bad luck, or an accident. You really have to know what you’re looking for when you’re working a case, otherwise you might end up accusing a human of wrong doing.
I rub my eyes and curse when I see the smear of black eye liner on my fingers. Not bothering to look in a mirror, I just swipe under them again and hope my haphazard makeup doesn’t look too bad.
I’m a bit of a natural witch, as well as being a demon hunter, but I don’t make money from the witchy shit. Demon hunting is my real job, but if my aunt ever bothers to ask, I’m a “waitress”. I’m really a bartender, but since I used a fake ID to get the job, it’s probably smart to tell the woman who raised me—and had me committed— a little lie. She knows that I’m not 21 and not legally old enough to serve alcohol in a bar in the state of Iowa. I’ve been in town for almost a year now, recovering from my last hunting job. I was nursing a broken arm and various other physical and emotional wounds that put me out of commission from chasing things that go bump in the night.
I tap my pen on the journal and think about the last time I wrote in one of these. That journal is still half-finished, buried in a drawer at my apartment. I couldn’t bring myself to finish it, since the demon still lived. I hadn’t been able to vanquish it, after it managed to kill my boyfriend and partner, Jake.
I’m not going to finish that one, so I have no idea why I’m starting this new journal, but my life feels like it’s hanging on edge. And I feel like I’m letting Jake down by not hunting.
The bar is entirely empty right now, so I have plenty of time to gather my thoughts.
I’m finally ready to get back into the game. I made myself a promise that I would ease back into it, that I would do the next job smarter. Because a broken arm sucks. And so does heartbreak. And I’d also like to stay out of the loony box. If I’m not more careful that’s where my aunt will send me, if she thinks I’m chasing my delusions again.
The bell over the door rings, and I hide my notebook under the bar.
It’s just my boss. He already knows about my delusions. Supports them too. It was surprising to find someone who believes in the bad things out there. So many people just chalk all the bullshit up to human behavior. And it is, to a certain extent, but sometimes there is someone or something in the wings pulling the strings. Humans are puppets for demons. And angels. Both need to stay the fuck out of our lives as far as I am concerned.
Todd nods in my direction. “Hey, Tyler.”
He crosses the bar in a few short strides. Todd isn’t old, probably late twenties. He’s tall and lean and attractive. He’s covered in tattoos and has a shaved head. He also reads a lot and speaks Spanish. He’s probably one of the wisest people I have ever met. Todd definitely helped me put my life back together after I moved to this town. I pour him a glass of water and slide it over to him. He’s standing at the other end of the bar, pulling out his ledger. He always comes in early on Fridays to work on his books.
“Hey, Todd.” A stray hair falls into my face and I pull my pony tail out and plop my hair up into a sloppy bun
“You ready for the rush tonight?”
“Yep.” My lips feel tight on my face as I try to give him a smile. He reads my fake smile easily, and laughs. Todd has been able to read my every emotion since the moment I met him.
I hate Fridays. I found out pretty quickly that I don’t have the customer service skills to get good tips like the other girls who work here. They’re all smiles and friendly with the customers. I just pour drinks quickly and collect the money. I don’t know how to flirt or to smile without looking homicidal.
It doesn’t help that they’re all tall and beautiful. I’m built like an athlete and I’ve got curves, sure, but I hide them under my clothes. I also don’t go to the trouble of doing my makeup to supermodel perfection like they do. My hair is long and dark brown. It’s my favorite feature, but I usually wear it up in a bun because it’s so long, so it’s not like I can even attempt flirty hair flips either.
The light streaming through the windows is fading by the time I put my notebook away in my purse. The other bartenders are wandering in, followed by some patrons. I give the other bartenders a half smile and serve my first drink of the night, and then suddenly I’m swept up in the rush.
****
Sweat lines the inside of my bra and I’m bumping into the other girls in our hurried state, when I notice him. The girl serving drinks next to me, Lindsay, stops to stare at him too.
So far, my theory of this town being heavy on the demon activity is pretty unfounded. It seems like a normal, quiet, small town. The only things I have to go on are a few weird crimes in the surrounding area and my gut.
But seeing him, I know something major is going on. There is no way this guy is human.
His looks are unreal. He’s t
all with classic features; straight nose, strong jaw. His face is smooth, young, and has an innocence about it. If I had to guess, he would be in college, which would explain his sudden appearance in town. It’s the end of the summer, and the bar has begun filling up with students as they move back to town. His sandy blonde hair also makes him look like a college student as it’s styled in a messy way, like someone has been running their hands through it.
I want to shake Lindsay when I see her give him a sexy come-hither smile. A smile he returns easily, before his eyes slowly slide over to me. The smirk morphs into a full grin, and his light eyes spark with challenge when he sees that I’m eyeing him not with lust, but with utter disgust.
I seriously fucking hate demons.
Naturally, he slides in front of the bar where I am serving a patron. The guy I’m serving is another obvious college kid in a Broncos’ hat, who up until that point, had been staring at my cleavage. Broncos’ Hat turns to give the asshole a dirty look, but his eyes widen in surprise and recognition.
“Finally, man I’ve been waiting forever for you to show up!”
He slaps the demon on the back like they’re the best of friends. They probably are. The demon gives a smirk to the douche in the hat and a nod in my direction. They share a confident look, and I roll my eyes at the side of their heads.
“Give me some Johnnie,” the demon says to me.
His voice is pure silk. A slight accent, deep. Perfect, just like his face and judging by the way his clothes fit him, his body. Heads snap around, mostly female, but some men take in the newcomer. Lindsay saunters closer.
My jaw clenches, and I turn around, slamming the bottle on the bar and pouring the drink. I slide it to him and reach for his money. I’m trying to avoid touching him, when he slips the it into my hand, making it impossible. A rush of heat coats my skin, not from arousal or any of the romance book bullshit, but from revulsion. I don’t know if this guy is for sure a demon, but I’m seventy or eighty percent sure he is. Even if he’s not, he’s definitely a person I would find repulsive anyway. He has an air of entitlement surrounding him that I loathe.
“Keep the change.” He’s facing me fully now, leaning on the bar, closer to me than I would like. Lindsay is still beside me, frozen in place, swooning.
I take the bills to the till and break it down. It was more than enough to cover his drink. I toss his change onto the counter, my eyes meet his in defiance, and I head to another thirsty drunk.
Lindsay grabs my arm. “Are you fucking crazy, that was a huge tip?”
“Get off me.” I shake her hand off. Her grip falls away easily, and her eyes widen in surprise. I rush to cover my harshness. “Guys like that, they want something in return for a tip like big. And I’m not willing to give it.”
Her eyes narrow at me, trying to decipher if I am really crazy.
“Whatever, if you don’t want it, let me take his orders for the rest of the night. I’ll take anything he’s offering,” she practically purrs.
I shudder at the thought of that boy getting his hands on her. Lindsay is the only one of the other bartenders that I can stand. She’s normally not so vapid.
“Sure thing.” I shape my hand into a gun and shoot it at her with a wink. I get busy with serving drinks and avoiding small talk with drunk strangers for the next hour. The night passes quickly. At midnight, I’m on hour ten of my shift.
“I’m taking a break,” I shout over the bar at Todd. He nods his head and moves to pick up the counter from me.
I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge under the bar and throw a dollar into the drawer to pay for it. I duck under the bar and go through the ‘Staff Only’ door at the back. There’s a private restroom back here and a door to the alley behind the bar. I head into the restroom and relieve myself before heading out for ten minutes of fresh air.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
The voice chills the summer night’s air. I’ve got my knife at his throat before he even fully reaches me. He doesn’t put his arms up in surrender. In fact, he walks into the tip of my knife. A wisp of smoke rises into the night air. Dark blood pebbles around the tip of the knife. He takes a drag off his cigarette, and throws it onto the pavement. The movement is swift and almost distracting.
“My name is Kade.” He smiles at me. The smile is hot. Panty-melting hot and I almost know for sure then. Kade is a lust demon. It explains level-headed Lindsay’s moist-panty pant back at the bar.
I put more pressure on the knife, to the point of breaking his skin, and more smoke from the tiny wound on his neck rises into the air.
“Enchanted.” I’m talking about the knife. He just keeps smiling, like he thinks I’m enchanted to meet him.
For a moment, doubt leaks into my brain. Months of therapy at the psych ward form a haze over my rational brain, and I almost drop the knife, suddenly unsure of what he is. Months of not hunting and self-doubt starts to creep in
But then, his eyes burn black. It’s a quick flash, but that’s more than enough for any hunter. I swipe left. His throat opens, and the blood flows so quickly, it looks black in the pale moonlight. The wound smokes but not nearly enough.
And before I can even smile in victory, the gaping slash in his neck knits itself back together.
Fuckity fuck.
I’ve NEVER seen that happen before in my life. And I’ve killed a few demons.
“Enchanted,” he smirks back at me, “but it’ll take a bit more than a simple vanquishing spell on a piece of cheap steel to get rid of me.”
“Fuck.”
I move to a defensive position, so sure that he’s going to attack me. I toss the knife in the air and catch it with the handle outward. The blade angles down the back of my hand. Ready to slash on my back swings. I would kill to have a longer blade, something to give myself a little distance.
If I was smart at all, I’d run. Because if my fucking magically-enhanced knife can’t kill this demon, he’s definitely out of my league.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet. I need to talk to you, actually.”
He moves his hands in a “down doggy” motion. Like hell I’m lowering anything to this guy.
“Right.” I snort at him, and reaffirm my grip on the knife.
“Fine, keep the knife.” He rolls his eyes and lights up another cigarette. Smoking is disgusting, but watching Kade do it makes it look decadent. My mouth dries, and I suddenly want to take a drag.
“Get the fuck out of my head.” I grind my teeth, thinking of a quick blocking spell. It works, thankfully, and he zooms back out of my head.
“Oh, little birdy has tricks. Good, you’re going to need them to help me.” He takes another long drag on the butt and exhales a ring of smoke. He’s probably been smoking for a millennium. The practice is apparent in the effortless way he shows off.
“The only thing I’m going to help you with is putting you back in that heatbox you call home.” I lean back on my left foot, getting ready to strike again.
“Good, that’s what I need your help with.”
That does it. I spin around and whap his head with the back of my hand. The one holding the knife. It’s a brutal strike. If he were human, it would have disfigured him for life. He leans over, holding the wound in his face.
“Would you fucking stop trying to kill me with that shitty piece of tin!” he yells at me, his skin once again perfectly golden.
“Fine. Talk.”
I drop the knife back into my purse. I mentally cringe at the demon blood coating all the random shit in there. I can only hope all the discarded receipts soak up the majority of the blood.
Then again, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die tonight, so it may not matter anyway. Maybe if I stall him enough, Todd will come check on me. Something tells me this demon would hesitate to kill in front of the man who owns what is probably his favorite hunting ground.
“I needyoutokillme,” he blurts it all out on an exhale. Like he’s embarrassed to be asking me, a
lowly human, to end his life.
“Gladly, but I left everything but this shitty piece of tin in my apartment. Mind waiting while I go grab something stronger?”
I smile sweetly at him, all the while backing up to the door. Fuck, my aunt will kill me if I die in this nowhere little town.
“Ah ah ah, you’re not leaving yet.”
He moves in close to me, pushing my back into the wall of the building. I’m in no hurry to touch him, so I retreat there willingly. He’s got me caged in, his arms on either side of me now. The brick flakes off into my skin and little pebbles are implanting themselves in the back of my arms. I can feel each sharp bite as I push my body back as far as it can go.
He smells amazing in the most disgusting way possible. Citrus and smoke. It’s a spicy, heady aroma that tickles the back of my throat. Or maybe that’s vomit coming up, being this close to a demon tends to turn my stomach.
“Personal space,” I spit at him.
“You’ll get it back when I’m back in my hotbox.” When he smiles this time I notice that his incisors are pointed, the left one overlaps the tooth next to it a bit. An imperfection. His teeth are super white, the enamel reflecting the shitty back alley light over the dumpsters. This does more for my libido than his scent. I have a thing for teeth. I’m fucking weird. Fuck. He’s in my head without being in my head.
“Fuck,” I breathe. His only answer is to give me a predatory smile.
“You like that word. I like that word too.” What he’s implying isn’t lost on me.
“It was heatbox, you doucheknuckle,” I correct him, about a million and fifty seconds too late. Suddenly, I don’t want to kill him. I just want him to go away actually. I’m tired. Emotionally.
“Why me?” I ask him.
“Because you’re the only competent hunter in a fifty-mile radius, and I’m suddenly ready to die.”