There’s nothing I can do but walk down the passageway and let him see me. I step out and meet his eyes, plastering a smile onto my face as I do. His hard face doesn’t move.
“Hey big guy,” I greet him as I make my way up to him. Nothing moves but his eyes, staring down at me with zero expression. He’s not human, but not demon either. What race exactly he belongs to, I am not sure. What I do know, is that it’s closer to evil than it is to good. A form of brainwashing is what keeps him obedient; otherwise I am not certain he wouldn’t crush the bones of anyone unlike him. “I don’t suppose you’re going to let me go idly by, huh?”
He doesn’t even blink. No answer.
I shrug. “I figured.”
With a heavy sigh, as if burdened by what he is about to do, he reaches for the radio at his side. I pounce before his fingers can brush the smooth metal. I make a grab for them, pulling them backwards, not to hurt him but to distract him momentarily as I slam my elbow into his chin.
His head snaps back violently. He staggers backwards, but before he can react, I reach for my sword and ram the pommel into his skull with such force, he’s thrown into the wall next to him and raps his head against it. He falls to the ground in a crumpled heap.
I replace my sword, looking down at him. “For such a big guy, you sure do go down easy.”
That’s all I allow myself to say before I step into the conveyor and press ‘B’.
6
Mr. Black doesn’t notice I’m gone. Either that, or he lets me escape, which I highly doubt. There’s nothing he hates more than having his orders defied. I know that firsthand.
Which means, I am successful, if only for this tiny part of the plan I haven’t completely sorted through as yet. I step out into the sun, a light breeze caressing my sweaty face, a nice change to the damp, airless basements I’ve subjected myself to for the past half hour. It’s half the reason I was so eager to get out.
The other being that I’m no fool, I know my father never does anything without reason. And I know it is something he was taught by the previous Guild leader, who was taught before that.
The basements were built for a specific reason and I doubt it’s anything simple. I don’t want to think about the sort of horrors that might have gone down in a place like this, and I hurry out of there as quickly as I can.
Now, I need to go to the mission site.
Since I snuck out, I can’t take any of the many vehicles at disposal for most hunters. Which means I either have two options: be the upright citizen that I’m expected to be and take public transportation to my destination, or hotwire a car.
I don’t think very long on those options and immediately begin searching for a vehicle to steal. I need to move fast, and the train won’t help very much with that. Though, thinking about it, I’m more inclined to hotwire a car even if I’m not pressed for time.
The New York air is flushed with noise and heat. For a moment, I regret not bringing a jacket with me, because now I’m going to stand out like a sore thumb in the clothing I wear. Usually, whichever vehicle I’m using provides perfect coverage, but I suppose going off on a frolic of my own has its minor downsides.
I pull my hair out of its hold. It’ll serve as a little coverage at least.
I pause. The Guild is to my back now, but I’m much too close to it for safety or comfort.
I need to get out of here and I need to get out of here fast. Any hunter coming in or out might spot me. Will spot me, actually, since they know my face as well as they know theirs.
Unfortunately, the vehicles I spot are too crowded. It’ll make news if people see a woman in all black stealing a car in broad daylight, if they don’t take me down before I do that is. I need to find someplace that isn’t well traversed.
I take off down the street, keeping my eyes ahead of me. People stare at me and whisper but I ignore them. Soon, I see exactly what I’m looking for. The entrance – or rather, exit – to another underground parking lot.
As the darkness of the shaded area envelops me, I feel a sudden bout of renewed vigor. Stronger, almost, which I’m not surprised by. I always work best during the nights, where the shadows are my only witnesses. And, it seems, they’ll be the only ones present as I make my way to the black Sedan I see parked in the far corner.
A quick glance at the cameras tells me there might actually be unseen witnesses to my act, but it doesn’t matter. No doubt I can find a car wedged within the camera’s blind spots but I want the Sedan. So, I’m taking the Sedan.
I run my fingers along the smooth exterior, making my way to the driver’s side. No alarm. Good. Stupid, but good.
No doubt I’ll be able to jimmy the lock to gain entry, but that’ll take time I’m not keen on wasting. So, I ram my elbow into the window. Shattered glass falls to my feet. Still, no alarm. Double good.
I brush the glass off the seat, hop in, and, after the few minutes it takes to start the car, I take off.
The Sedan roars the true power of the engine, bleating out a fearsome screech as the tires burn against the road. People shout at my reckless driving, horns blare after me, but I leave them in my dust. Now, all I can see is Natalia’s face and the pedal hits the floor.
Upper East Side isn’t very far from the Guild and it only takes me about ten minutes to peel into the area. It isn’t until I’m nearing the mission site do my senses come back to me.
I pull up to the side of the road. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! The place will be crawling with hunters. There’s no way I’ll be able to go and find whatever I need without one of them noticing me and stopping me from doing anything. Or worse, without informing Mr. Black.
There has to be some way I can get in there. I can’t just sit idly by while they do everything, especially after all the trouble I went through to get here in the first place. Natalia needs me.
Think, Melody. If I can’t get in there, how else can I get the information I want? How else can I find any sort of clue as to where Natalia and the other hunters might have gone? Natalia isn’t the most secretive girl and she’s by no means unpredictable. If a mission goes really well, she likes to celebrate. If a mission goes really badly, she likes to cheer herself up.
Not helpful considering there’s a chance the mission didn’t even end.
Which means whatever clue I’m looking for will be at the mission site. Well, fuck.
Suddenly, I sit up straighter. There is somewhere I can go. Natalia has a little apartment near here, a place she usually takes her non-hunter exploits. It’s sort of her getaway, someplace she goes to relax. Away from the pressure of the Guild. She also stops by there sometimes on her way to a mission, especially if it isn’t urgent. Maybe she stopped there before she headed out. Maybe she left some sort of clue as to what might have happened to her.
It isn’t likely, but it’s the only thing I’ve got.
I put foot to pedal again and swerve the car into the opposite direction.
7
Natalia’s apartment building is upscale, sporting modern fixtures and spotless window panes. I flash the guard at the entrance a smile as I approach.
“Hey, John,” I say to him, leaning my elbow on the windowless opening of his guard shed. “How ya been?”
John looks up from his box of donuts and grins at me, eyes sparkling. He’s always had a crush on both Natalia and me, and would jump at any chance to get with either one of us. Or both, as I’m sure he would prefer.
“Melody, long time no see. It’s me who should be asking you that. As you can see, it’s the same old, same old.”
“Stuffing those donuts day and night, as usual.” I shake my head at him and tsk playfully. “You haven’t gotten any less cute since I last saw you, though. So don’t let off on the donuts, they’re surely working some magic.”
John’s cheeks turn a frightening shade of red. Firetruck red, I think is what the cool kids call it. Slight guilt crawls under my skin at the sight. The man is twice my age and my size and…I’m an ass.
“One of my many charms,” I lie. I’m tempted to wink at him. I don’t think it’ll make my flirting overkill but I’m not as sure it won’t have his fragile heart giving way. “By the way, have you seen Natalia come by here?”
“Natalia?” He frowns. Not a good sign. “No, I don’t think I have. Not today anyway.”
“A few days ago, I mean. Did she stop by?”
“A few days ago…” His eyes roll into the sky in thought. “Now that I think about it, I think I might have seen her, yes. Damn, this brain of mine is getting worse by the second. I don’t know if it was a few days ago or a week ago, to be perfectly honest. Why? Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong at all. I’m just trying to prove a point to her.”
The frown falls and, in its place, comes a look of complete mirth. Or maybe half mirth and half lust. I can’t be totally sure. “You two are always fighting about something.”
“You should see us when the doors are closed.” I smile brighter and step away. “Thanks for your help, John. I’m heading up,” I say, but he’s so reeled into my last comment that I don’t think he hears me. I don’t think he’s going to hear anything else with the tantalizing imagery I just produced for him. If I linger a bit longer, I’m sure I’ll catch him drooling, but there’s no time for that. And it’s also not a sight I’m keen on seeing.
I forget all about John as I make my way up in the elevator. So, if what he says is right, then Natalia might have really stopped by before heading to the mission site. I don’t know what that means for me, but I don’t have any choice but to check it out. It’s all I have.
The place is a mess, but of course it is. The living space looks like three toddlers had ran rampant through this place, clothes nearly everywhere.
Natalia, when I find you, I’m going to sit you down have a good talk with you about your nasty habits. If you find her, my brain says in response. I suck in a deep breath, not wanting any unnecessary emotions to seep in.
As much as everything looks fine on the surface, the mess makes my job a bit harder. The clue I’m searching for might be hidden beneath mountains of clothes, empty eyeshadow palettes and half used lipsticks and I won’t even know. It takes me nearly twenty minutes to pick through the things in the living room before making my way to the kitchen.
In here, it’s a bit better. The stove hasn’t been cleaned in a while and there is a weird smell coming from the fridge, but at least the dishes are done and there are no open cans or empty bags of chips across the island. As a matter of fact, the counters are spotless. Natalia does take a bit more care around the places she eats but not to the extent that she would actively clean. That’s what her once every two weeks maid is for.
Despite the oddness of that, I don’t see anything off and I wade through the sea of mess in the living room once again to make my way to the only bedroom in the apartment.
It’s wide and messy. But of course, it is. And just like the other two rooms, this one doesn’t yield a single clue, or anything out of place that might give me some indication that something is off. Neither does the bathroom. Of course, I’m exploring a dead end.
I knew it was a stretch. Even so, I feel a twinge of helplessness at the fact that, once again, I’m right where I started. Which means I have no choice but to do the only thing I didn’t want to. Barge right into the mission site and find answers myself, Mr. Black be damned.
As I turn to leave, I feel it. A change in the air. A pressure on my chest. All my senses coming to life, shouting at me, screaming at the intruder. The hairs on my hand stand on end, and, almost as if in fear, the heat of the room flees.
There’s a demon in the apartment. And whatever it is, it’s strong. Incredibly strong.
I reach for my sword, pulling it soundlessly from its scabbard. My entire body seems to be pulsating in response to the presence on the other side of this door. I creep toward it, keeping as low as I possibly can. Slowly, carefully, cautiously, I turn the knob.
It doesn’t creak, thank God. I don’t recall it ever doing so, but I can’t be too sure about anything right now. With a demon that strong, already stronger than anything I’ve ever encountered, I’m not keen on tipping it off on my presence. Though, I won’t be surprised if it’s just as aware of me as much as I am of it. My veins hum in anticipation. Panic, I think surges right through me. But as soon as its presence is noted, I stomp it back down. Strong or not, I am not as good of a hunter as I am because I fear the non-living. I am this good because there’s nothing I fear.
Or because you have a death wish, my brain screams.
I block out the intrusion and continue my search. Careful to move quietly, my eyes scanning the room with high alertness. I don’t see it. Whatever it is, wherever it is, it has either covered itself in glamour or is out of my view. I move out of the bedroom and into the living room, still keeping close to the ground. I creep forward, eyes darting everywhere.
Then I see it. Or, rather him.
And he sees me.
Sitting on the piles of strewn clothes on the couch, legs and arms crossed, is something – someone – I never, not in a million years, expected to see. But I recognize him instantly.
My veins go silent at that word echoing in my head.
It’s the King of Demons.
The devil of all devils; demon of all demons.
Lucifer, himself.
8
A dozen things hit me at once. So strong is the force of it that it almost knocks me off my feet and I stagger backwards, gasping as my fingers seek the comfort of the wall behind me. The chill of its surface races through me and, as if excited by its presence, those feelings that bombard me increase tenfold and almost bring me to my knees.
I can see him watching me, his face so impassive and utterly normal as if what I’m feeling is typical. And I have no doubt it is. He’s what’s causing all this. He’s the reason my heart is palpitating and my lungs have gone into overdrive, but I close my eyes to his stare, trying to block him out and identify what the fuck is going on with me.
Then it hits me. Greed. My head pounds with a sudden yearning for more, but more of what exactly I’m not completely sure. My fingers suddenly itch for more money, for more power, for more influence, and my craving washes over me until my pounding head increases to such a frightening tempo, the rhythmic beat of it races together into one draining ache.
I recognize gluttony next and with the sudden cramping of my stomach, I know it’ll be just as bad as the first. I grab my belly, gasping as pain rockets through me, a terrible mixture of that feeling when your stomach is too full you can hardly move, and the sting of hunger. My mouth suddenly goes dry and I say something, though I’m not completely sure what, and I don’t try to figure it out when the feeling dims and the next one comes to the forefront.
I’m expecting it, but still not prepared when it hits. Wrath. Heat washes my face instantly, fire lights my skin and I’m consumed by such anger it’s like nothing I’ve ever known. My heart beats so erratically, my chest begins to hurt, and I clench my fists, eyes zoning in on the man who is the object of all this pain. He doesn’t react to my obvious rage and for that, it increases tenfold. I welcome this, though I can’t say it isn’t frightening.
The wrath fades and it its place comes a wave of laziness. My body sags against the wall behind me, and relief consumes me. I sigh, comforted for only a second before my limbs become tired, and my eyes weigh down with fatigue. The room blurs, then focuses, then completely disappears, and for a second, I think I might have fallen asleep.
But then my ass hits the floor and I jolt, a piercing wave of deep-rooted envy enveloping my entire being and consuming me to the point of no return. I don’t know who I want, what I want, why I want it, but I know that I do. I know that with the blood rushing in my head, the clenching of my jaw and the determined fists I make, I’m willing to do anything I have to take it
from whoever has it. And the thought doesn’t frighten me as much as it should.
The next feeling that follows is something I’m used to, and I revel in the short comfort I get from that, though I’ve never felt it to this extent. Pride. I can’t help cocking my chin upwards, pulling myself to my feet and standing with my legs apart as if nothing in the world can knock me over. It’s a feeling I use to drive me during training, to protect me during any encounter with Mr. Black, and so far it has done wonders. It’s my shield. My armor. Without it, I don’t know who I am.
And then that feeling flees in light of the magnitude of the next one that comes, something that no doubt many have felt before, but I doubt it was with this much force. It hits me so hard I almost sink to my feet again but I keep myself upright, if only to stop my body from reacting like a woman in heat. The room suddenly smells like sex, like the sweat and passion that coats the air, mingling with the scent of roses and a musky male. My nails dig into the wall, feeling heat pool in the bottom of my belly, then melt away into my private parts where I know I’m soaking wet. I feel it, I sense it, I can almost smell it.
And I’m sure he can too. For the first time since I have laid eyes on him, he smiles, just a tiny crook of his mouth, his black eyes filling with satisfaction. The sight should make me angry, and I feel that somewhere deep down, but it’s only a shadow compared to the roaring wave of lust and need coursing through me and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to throw myself at him.
As if he can read my thoughts, he smiles wider.
“What the fuck are you doing to me?” I whisper, breathless, barely hanging on, barely keeping myself from kneeling at his feet and begging for him to touch me.
“You’re more sensitive than most,” he murmurs, his voice low and thoughtful, edged with just a twinge of humor. “I’ve never seen a human react so strongly before.”
Hunting Darkness Page 5