Diary of a Demon Hunter 4: Doubly Dying
Michele Bardsley
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Copyright ©2007 Michele Bardsley
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Diary of a Demon Hunter 4: Doubly Dying
Michele Bardsley
Maggie Mortis goes after the demon king Abatu -- who plans to give “hell on Earth” a whole new definition. Maggie will risk everything to entrap the demon -- even the love of Raphael. It will be a battle that will either save her soul… or condemn it.
Publisher’s Note: This title is part of a serial -- books which share a universe and are meant to be read in order.
“The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.”
-- from The Lay of the Last Minstrel by Sir Walter Scott
Chapter 1
From the diary of Maggie Mortis…
When Rafe and I first met, I told him that I would never break a promise and I would never lie.
I can’t tell you how desperately I wanted to keep those two tenets, but I had already broken one… and soon, I will break the other.
Only a week has passed since Eltar and I rescued Raphael from Hell. I found eleven vials in Abatu’s safe, but I only gave Rafe ten.
I had to keep one. How else could I kill Abatu? Everyone wants him dead because he’s trying to rule everything in creation. I want him dead because he has killed almost every person I’ve ever loved. Because of him, my father, my mother, my Guardian, my friend, and countless others are dead.
I’m not a woman who believes in peace, love, and understanding.
I believe in revenge.
At any cost.
* * *
“Marry me.”
Maggie stopped unloading her weapons and turned to stare at her half-demon lover. “What?”
“You heard me,” said Raphael as he crossed the distance between them. He closed the bedroom door, locking it against their ever-expanding family of humans and demons, and then turned to her. He wore only a towel and his long, dark hair was still wet from his shower. He looked as beautiful as ever, his blue eyes filled with love.
Oh, God. Her heart felt more and more burdened lately. She could barely look at him because she might give away her secrets, her lies… her betrayal. Instead, she pressed against him and kissed him until she lost her breath.
She whipped off the towel and stroked his thick cock until it was hard. He tended to the removal of her clothing and when she was naked, she hooked her leg around his and tumbled him to the floor.
He could take a hit. Still, landing on his backside with her on top left him breathless. He wheezed his laughter, his hands cupping her breasts as she lowered herself onto his cock.
“Maggie,” he moaned as he met her thrusts. He twisted her nipples, and pleasure radiated straight to her pussy.
She rocked on him, her hands planted onto his chest, her vaginal muscles clenching tightly. She fucked him, wanting to give him pleasure, wanting him to come while she denied herself.
But he wouldn’t deny her.
He grabbed her, rolling her onto the floor until he was on top. He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth as she wrapped her legs around his waist and arched, taking his deep thrusts.
Desperation had her clinging to him, had her squeezing back tears. Then Rafe was groaning his release, his demon cock pulsing as his come filled her. She wasn’t surprised when he rose to his knees and revealed that his cock was as long and hard as ever.
That was the advantage of a demon lover. He was like the Energizer Bunny. He could keep going and going and going…
He bent her legs forward. “Grab your ankles.”
She did as he asked and raised her hips to give him access to her ass. He pushed a finger into her vagina, lubing it with his come and her juice, and then he worked it into her anus.
The finger wiggling inside her sensitive ass tissues made her shudder with pleasure. He inserted another lubed finger and used both to ring her over and over, stretching her. She cupped her breasts, tugging on the nipples to increase the erotic sensations zinging her.
Finally he fit his cock against her tight hole and pushed it inside inch by inch until he was fully seated. Her ass burned at the violation, but she loved having her ass stuffed. She loved anything Raphael did to her.
The hand he used to ready her anus clamped onto her hip. The other hand cupped her mound, flicking her clitoris until she moaned.
Drawing flush against her, he stroked in and out of her ass. She relished his every movement and her nails bit into the flesh of her ankles as she begged for more.
“I’ll give you anything you ask,” promised Rafe. But his gasping words trailed into a groan. He stopped pumping into her.
“Rafe! Goddamn it!”
“Sshh, baby.”
He moved his hand from her pussy, and forming a beak with his fingers he slowly pushed them into her vagina. She sucked in deep breaths. Having her anus stuffed along with the incredible fullness of his hand stretching her vaginal walls tipped her toward excruciating bliss.
When he’d filled her up to his wrist, he curled his fingers into a fist then rhythmically bumped her G-spot with his knuckles as he ass-fucked her into orgasmic oblivion.
Her entire body seemed to shatter into a thousand stars. One orgasm rolled onto the next one and her cunt and ass throbbed. She vaguely felt the hot spurt of Rafe’s seed fill her.
She had barely floated down to earth again when she felt his tongue whipping on her clitoris. He sucked and flicked her into a third orgasm. Her hips came off the floor as her pussy convulsed and covered his face with her come.
Completely spent, she sprawled on the floor and tried to catch her breath. Rafe lay down next to her and wiped the sweat off her brow.
“What was the question again?” she asked, teasing him.
“Would you please marry me?”
“Okay.” Maggie kissed her own essence right off his face. Agreeing to marry Rafe was absolutely the wrong thing to do.
So why did it make her so fucking happy?
* * *
“Where are you going?” asked Rafe. He studied Maggie’s black demon-proof outfit, belt fitted with potions, knives, and moon scythes, and her three-inch spiked ankle boots.
“Uh…”
Damn it. Five minutes ago, he’d been in the lab working on translating the Book of Demons and creating über spells for the next round of prisms. She’d hurried into the bedroom, dressed, and was on her way to sneaking out. Raphael had popped int
o the hallway, literally, in a blast of blue flame.
“Maggie?” He frowned, his brows dipping ominously. “I thought you were taking tonight off. Did we get an alert about demon trouble?”
Before she could tell yet another lie to her beloved, Mrs. Pottersworth barreled into the hallway with Auren and Sarah huffing and puffing behind her. “We’re ready, dearie!”
Maggie’s mouth dropped open. “Er… yeah? Good.”
Auren, who usually preferred the form of a scruffy black kitten, had taken her human form: a slight, pale woman with long black hair and ruby red lips. She wore a black leather bustier, black leather skirt, and matching calf boots. She was beautiful in a mesmerizing way, a demon goddess who would just as soon rip your heart out as look at you.
Sarah stuck Margie in the crook of Rafe’s arms and shoved a pink bag stuffed full of kiddy crap onto his shoulder. “Her bottle’s in there. You have to alternate regular formula with demonfire. The blue kind, okay? Red makes her gassy. Don’t give her plastic keys, she melts them. Don’t forget to burp her, but watch out for your hair. She’ll burn it off.” She touched her own singed locks and scrunched her face. “Am I forgetting anything?”
“Rafe has your cell phone number,” said Mrs. Pottersworth. “He’s very good with children.”
Rafe looked stunned. “I am?”
“Of course, you are.” Mrs. P patted his arm and smiled beguilingly. Her Elf ears poked out of her silvery hair. “Okay, ladies, let’s go.”
“Go where?” asked Rafe.
“Why, shopping for the wedding, of course. We have to check out the dresses --”
Maggie bristled. “Dress? Oh hell no!”
“Dress,” repeated Mrs. P with a steely look in her eye. “Then we have to pick out the flowers, the bridesmaid gowns, the menu for the reception…”
“And you can do that at nine o’clock at night?” Rafe sounded suspicious.
“We’re having a girl’s night out to look through magazines and catalogs,” said Sarah. “Unless you want to --”
“No,” said Rafe, shuddering. “Really. That’s okay. I’d rather baby-sit.” He shot a look at Maggie that was half amusement, half relief.
Mrs. P rushed Maggie out the door, which triple-locked behind them. They entered the elevator. The doors snicked shut and the car started to rise. The compound was three hundred feet underground and had more security than the Trump Towers.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Maggie. “I wasn’t going wedding shopping. Yuck!”
“Well, you are now,” said Mrs. P. “It’s not like you to get caught sneaking out.”
Her reprimand stung, but she was right. Maggie wasn’t sloppy. Her game had been off lately and she worried every minute that she’d made the wrong choice. What was the point of killing Abatu if it meant losing Rafe?
“Unless you wanted to get caught,” said Auren. She sounded completely bored, but Maggie knew better than that. Her little sis wasn’t apathetic, no matter how she sounded. “Maybe you’re feeling guilty.”
That hit the nail on the head. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Oh, shut up! What’s wrong with a little demon hunting?” she groused. “It’s what I do.”
“Lying to Rafe is bad enough,” said Sarah, her voice full of censure. “But don’t you dare lie to us.”
The doors opened and the women stepped into the hallway. Totally pissed off, mostly because her friends were right, Maggie led the way. She wished there was a demon to hunt because she’d love to stick her boot heel into his throat. Argh!
The compound was built underneath an empty mansion, surrounded by bespelled fencing. Anyone who got through the fence would then have to get into the heavily magicked and alarmed house. If they made it that far, they had to know the codes to open the elevator and have the right blood to even make it work. Everyone with a code to the house also had to prick their finger on a specially made button. If your DNA wasn’t in the system, a gas emitted from the elevator and knocked out the occupant.
They entered the kitchen, walking across the black-and-white tile to the door that led to the garage. Inside the five-car garage was Maggie’s Harley, the silver-gray Jaguar XLS, an SUV, Sarah’s 1994 Honda, and Rafe’s BMW. They trooped toward the SUV, which was bullet-proof, demon-proof, and fancied up with the latest in gadgets and weaponry.
Sarah got to the driver’s side door before Maggie. She grinned widely then swung up into the seat.
“This is my fucking car,” said Maggie, her temper about to snap. “No way are you driving.”
Mrs. Pottersworth snaked the front passenger seat and Auren climbed into the back behind Sarah. “Would you rather tell Rafe where you were really going, dearie? We’ll wait.”
Muttering darkly, Maggie stalked around the car. “This blows!”
She got into the backseat with her sister and viciously strapped herself into the seat. This was what happened when a demon hunter had friends. They… they… bossed you around and got you into trouble. Fuckers.
“So, where are we going?” asked Sarah as she started the SUV and revved the engine.
“Like I’m telling you,” said Maggie between clenched teeth. “Besides, aren’t you forgetting someone?”
“Eltar is a non-subject.”
“You said it had to snow in Hell,” said Maggie, just petty enough to enjoy Sarah’s grimace. “Do I need to show you the pictures again?”
“Fine!”
The garage door opened and Sarah slammed the SUV into reverse, barreling down the long driveway. Just before they got to the entrance gate, Sarah wheeled the car into a 180 turn. Dust spewed as she braked hard, leaving the front bumper inches from the black iron bars.
“Jesus!” Maggie resisted the urge to slap her friend upside the head. “Could you chill out?”
Sarah giggled. Maggie realized then Sarah was suffering from a bout of nerves. As much as she badmouthed Eltar, nobody was fooled. She was in love with the father of her child.
But she sure as hell didn’t like him very much.
Just as he did every day, Eltar waited near the mailbox. Maggie had to admit he was persistent. Only love could make a demon act like a beggar day after day.
Sarah pushed the button on the gate remote and the iron bars swung open. She drove through then rolled down her window. Eltar approached cautiously, peering at her with hopeful eyes. He looked like a well-dressed salesman in the pin-striped suit. He also wore a hat and carried a briefcase.
“Get in,” she demanded.
Auren opened her door. Eltar tossed his briefcase and hat into the back, then scurried across Auren to sit in the middle of the backseat.
Maggie looked at him and smiled grimly. “Welcome to my own personal hell.”
He grinned back. “Delighted as always, Miss Mortis.”
* * *
“You didn’t tell me you planned to bring a posse.” The young woman stared at Maggie reproachfully.
“I didn’t bring them,” said Maggie. “They leeched onto me.”
They stood at the gates of the tiny cemetery. It was located on the grounds of the abandoned church Maggie attended as a child. Her parents were buried here. Her mother had a funeral and mourners and gravediggers. Her father had been buried by cover of night with only her digging his grave and later, speaking tear-filled prayers. By the time Abraham Mortis met his maker, the cemetery and its church had been abandoned. No one buried their dead here. No one sought solace or faith.
No one but her.
Daddy made his coffin from the same bespelled material in which he’d buried Mom. Putting her father’s remains into a coffin he’d carved and magicked himself was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
Turning away from the graveyard and old memories, she considered the girl. She was beautiful with black, wavy hair and big, blue eyes. She wore a T-shirt and jeans; her purse was a big, shiny number that didn’t quite fit her hippy appearance. “What are you, twelve?”
“Eighteen,” she said. “And I’m really good at m
y job.”
“Who are you again, dearie?” asked Mrs. Pottersworth.
“Deb Johnson,” answered the girl. “I’m getting freaked out. I don’t like audiences. It’s not like raising the dead is easy.”
“Raising the dead!” Sarah looked horrified.
All eyes turned to Maggie. “You wanted to tag along.” Her tone was a shade too defensive. “Isn’t this better than shopping for wedding dresses?”
“You’re getting married?” asked Deb. “That’s righteous!”
Maggie resisted the urge to throw up. What had possessed Raphael to ask her to marry him? What had possessed her to accept? Argh!
“Deb, how did you get into this profession?” asked Mrs. Pottersworth.
“Oh, yeah… well.” Deb shrugged. “Mom is all into the arcane arts. She’s been teaching me stuff since I was, like, a year old. I’m good at necromancy, but I never really did anything on my own before -- till about a year ago. My boyfriend died in a car crash. I took one of my necro spellbooks to his grave and sorta… woke him up.”
“You brought your dead boyfriend back to life?” squeaked Sarah.
“The spell worked great, but the thing about necromancing is that you gotta be specific. I brought his body back, but his personality is totally gone. A zombie only has a tiny piece of its original soul.” Deb’s big blue eyes assessed Eltar critically. “Hey, Phil might be dead, but at least he’s not a demon.”
Maggie stared Deb. “You can see Eltar’s true form?”
“I got this thing about auras.” Deb shrugged. “Dude, you’ve got a weird psychic ambience. It screams ‘demon’ but you got serious white light, too.”
“He’s kinda good,” explained Maggie. “He doesn’t possess humans or try to eat them and he’s in love with Sarah, but she’s being stubborn.”
“Yeah. I can see her resistance toward him.”
Sarah stared daggers at Maggie, who just smiled benignly.
A loud moan echoed. The creepy noise was followed by gurgling and shuffling.
Maggie released her moon scythes from her belt and took an attack position. “What the fuck is that?”
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