The Unlikeable Demon Hunter_Crave

by Deborah Wilde

  “Like you care what they think.”

  I popped the tab on the Coke hard enough to send up a fine mist of soda. “I care what some of them think.”

  “Some of us would think it’s pretty fucking cool.” My mouth fell open and Rohan grinned at me. “What? It’d be like dating–”

  “Wonder Woman?”

  “Not even remotely.” He looked like he was about to elaborate so I clapped my hand over his mouth. He nipped me and I dropped my hand. “Sabrina,” he proclaimed.

  I pulled my punch to his shoulder at the last second out of respect for his injury. “The teenaged witch? Rethink that, you perv.” I snapped my fingers, which was a terrible idea because a) they made no noise with my bandages on and b) snapping fucking hurt when burned. “Doctor Strange.”

  Rohan grabbed a water bottle and twisted the cap off. “Quit it.”

  “Quit what?”

  He took a sip and wiped his mouth off. “Whatever weird shit you’re imagining with me and Benedict Cumberbatch.”

  “You should be so lucky. For an old guy, he’s pretty hot.” I chugged back the pop. It was warmer than I liked, but I appreciated the sugar rush tingling my teeth and burning my throat. “I like being the only girl Rasha.”

  “You like shit disturbing. If this is true and we’ve got a witch in our ranks?” He whistled and made a bomb exploding noise. “We’re in this together. Along with Ari, and Kane, and Drio, and Rabbi Abrams, and Baruch and Ms. Clara if you’ll let me tell them. Not to mention Mahmud, and at least a half dozen other guys that will have our back.”

  “Against all the other Rasha and the Executive.”

  “No. Against a few corrupt assholes. I’m willing to bet that most of the Rasha have no clue this is going on and if they did, they’d be as mad as we are. They’ll be on your side.”

  “Even if I’m not Rasha?”

  “You’re making this either or.” He tugged on my hamsa ring. “We were always told that this ring was a covenant with the Brotherhood, but maybe the fact you could be a witch and it still doesn’t come off means that it’s a covenant with the greater fight against evil. Wherever evil is to be found. And you, Nava Katz, seem to be leading the charge.”

  I scowled at him. “How am I supposed to stay mad at you when you say things like that?”

  He pulled his shirt back on with a wince. “You can’t. I’m perfect.”

  True. Even with all his issues, Rohan was pretty damn great and thoroughly comfortable in his own skin. Me, on the other hand? Growing up, I’d had such a clear sense of myself. There were the jocks, the bunheads, the drama kids, and me, the tapper and Ari’s twin. Eventually, my identity had expanded to include being Cole’s girlfriend since we were joined at the hip.

  When I’d lost two of those three, I’d floundered. Neither had been my choice to walk away from like Rohan leaving the band. I’d crafted the only identity I could to keep the hurt and loss at bay. The one way to feel like I had any say in my own existence. Then once again, I didn’t. I was told I was Rasha and that was that. Even worse, no one, from my parents through to Rabbi Abrams and the other Rasha were happy about it. I was some freak they’d all gotten stuck with.

  That’s why I’d been so determined to get Ari by my side. Not just because this was his destiny, but because if I’d lost him, lost that one final essential link to myself… I exhaled and tipped back the rest of my drink.

  I’d been fighting for so long and I’d just gotten to the point where I could breathe. I had allies and I’d adjusted to my new life as a hunter. Now it seemed I wasn’t the only girl at the party: I was some second-rate witch at best and some weird mutant at worst.

  Outside the window, all was gray. There was no horizon to orient myself. I shivered, telling myself that I’d be on terra firma again soon.

  “Do you think David was covering up his fuck-up?” Rohan was examining Malik’s painting.

  I got him a fresh ice pack, cracking it to activate it, and pressed it against his ribs over the gauze taped there, the edges shiny with ointment. “How so?”

  “This painting basically states that he fathered Asmodeus.” Rohan took over ice pack duty. “That he slept with this demon Mahlat. What if the reason he struck the deal with witches to create Rasha wasn’t out of some noble desire to kill all demons, but to have a handpicked team to clean up his mess?”

  “Yikes. It’s entirely possible. Oh! The lovers.” I raced for the carry-on and pulled out our laptop. “The second part of that prophecy. ‘Tick tock goes the clock, the lovers reunite.’” I jotted down my thoughts as fast as I could type, which wasn’t all that fast with my bandaged hands

  “David and Mahlat are the original lovers. Rasha and demon.” I tapped a finger against my lip. “That pairing doesn’t work if ‘the lovers reunite’ in the prophecy refers to Mandelbaum and whoever is doing the binding. Like symbolic lovers slash partners kind of thing. It would need to be rabbi and witch and David wasn’t a rabbi.”

  Next to me, Ro went still. “Rasha and witch, Sparky.” He gestured between us.

  “First off, we don’t even know I’m a witch. Second, wrong combo. We haven’t ‘re’ anything. We’re united. Full stop.”

  “It’s a prophecy. Things yet to come. We haven’t broken up yet, but–”

  “Ro.” I slammed the laptop shut. “I didn’t go through all sorts of hell to lose you so easily, okay? Don’t even think that bullshit.”

  He nodded, but for the rest of the flight home his words hung heavy between us.

  “You put my painting in a garbage bag?”

  Malik was practically hyperventilating as he drew it out, muttering what sounded like endearments to the canvas. Some lively symphony played from inset speakers and his place smelled like tomato sauce.

  I crossed my arms. “Nice job trying to get me killed, asshole.”

  “Cardboard box,” he said, still running a hand over the canvas, checking for wounds. “Layers of packaging. Was I or was I not exceedingly clear in my instructions?”

  “Boo hoo. I wasn’t going back in the house after that thing attacked us.”

  “If I have to pay a restorer, you’re footing the bill.” He carried the painting down the hallway leading off the open concept living room and kitchen.

  I followed him, chewing him out and being totally ignored.

  Malik opened a closet door. Inside was a glass door with a keypad. He typed in a code. There was the hiss of a decompressing seal as he opened it, and cool air flowed out. Inside were several other paintings. Malik stowed this one carefully on a rack a few inches off the ground and sealed the unit up again. All that trouble and the jerk wasn’t even hanging the damn thing up. “You better hope it’s not damaged,” he said.

  “I’m damaged, you dick.”

  “You’re alive.” Malik raked a slow, thorough gaze over me. “Interesting.” He returned to his kitchen, picked up a wooden spoon and lifted a lid on the stainless steel pot burbling on the stove. Steam curled out. “Your boyfriend’s knives couldn’t have sliced my trap and your magic couldn’t have destroyed it. That means you escaped it.”

  “How’d you get past the ward to set the trap for me?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I set it years ago. It just happened to be a handy way to get my answer of what you are. So answer.” He swiped some tomato sauce off the end of his spoon and tried it before adding a dash of salt. “Did you use some magic not in your Rasha starter kit? How did you escape?”

  “A bad attitude and a fast car.”

  “If you’re going to waste my time, leave.”

  I didn’t even get a flick of his fingers in warning. I flew out of the kitchen, slamming into the wall in the hallway and cracking my skull before sliding to the ground.

  The world swung sideways. I sat there, breathing through the vertigo. When I could open my eyes and the room held steady, I pushed to my feet, touching a finger to the back of my head. Blood.

  The smart thing to do would have been to walk
away. Keep my suspicions about what I was to myself and wait for Gelman to track down the witch. Except the marid had set me up with a very specific test. There had only been one of two ways I was getting out of there and if I was alive, he already knew.

  He’d done his stupid test, now it was my turn. Still, it took me a moment to move in his direction. I kept the counter between us, standing stiffly on high alert. “I portalled. Disappointed I’m not dead?”

  He filled a second pot with water and set it to boil on the stove. “Not yet.”

  “Rohan and I could have been killed if your hunch was wrong.”

  He shrugged like that was acceptable collateral damage. “The level of magic ability you accessed when you attacked me occurred when you’d been in an extreme state of distress. I needed to recreate those same conditions and see if I was right about you.”

  “You know what I am, yet you just stand here making dinner.”

  He reached up to a high cupboard to remove a bright blue box of rotini. I was so angry with him, I almost couldn’t appreciate his tight ass and the way his back muscles rippled when he stretched out his arm. “I’ll worry when you actually know what you’re capable of.”

  “You got your answer and your painting. Give me my name. Who’s binding demons?”

  His doorbell sounded. I planted myself in his way, but he lifted me up and set me aside so he could pass.

  I stomped into his living room while Malik greeted someone in Arabic. I sat down on the sofa, intending to crash his dinner party.

  He led a gorgeous woman with lustrous black hair and lush curves who was maybe a few years older than me into the room. Malik was thousands of years old so talk about cradle robber. “Lila, Nava. Nava, Lila.”

  She approached me, hand outstretched, more for me to kiss than shake, her eyes aglow. “You are not what I imagined.” Her lilting voice with its trace of a Middle Eastern accent made my nipples harden and a low lick of heat unfurl inside me.

  “I never am. You’re the Lila that Malik painted.” I stood up, pressing her hand between mine. Everything about Lila was flawless, from her dusky skin to the gentle curve of her smile.

  “Yes.” Lila regarded Malik fondly. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

  No reason why I should be the only one.

  Malik chuckled. “Always playing coy, Lilith. You put a lot of work into your reputation.”

  I crashed back onto my ass. “Lilith? Like Lilith Lilith?”

  She settled into the chair beside me. “Guilty as charged. I prefer Lila these days.”

  I sputtered for a few minutes while Malik got a platter of olives and assorted cheeses from the fridge and Lila watched me like I was amusing but not too bright.

  In the Garden of Eden story, Lilith was human, not a demon. She was supposed to be Adam’s first wife. Gelman had said she was a witch. It was only later mythologies that referred to her as a demon. Granted, those were written by men and being both a witch and a woman with a strong sexuality would have been enough to earn her the demon label, but at some point, had she truly become something other than human?

  “How the hell are you still alive?” I said. “What are you?” Heat slashed across my mouth, searing my lips together. Panicked, I thrashed in my seat, struggling futilely to open my mouth.

  “Lila,” Malik chastised.

  Lila reached for an olive, taking three dainty bites to finish it. “I don’t like her tone.”

  I clawed at my face with icy fingers, making pleading noises. I no longer had lips, just a smooth expanse of skin. Bitch had eliminated my mouth. I hadn’t even liked that scene in The Matrix. Living it now was terrifying.

  The lid rattled on the pot of boiling water. Malik ripped open the box of pasta and dumped some in the water. “She’ll make that infernal racket all through dinner and ruin my excellent sauce.”

  “That’s on you for letting her stay.” Lila glared at me. “Stop whining.”

  My jaw fell open. I gulped down air, running fingers over my lips. “Now would be a good time for that wine you’re so fond of.”

  Malik set the timer on the stove with a beep, plucked the bottle off the counter and procured some glasses.

  “Can I safely ask some questions?” I took the glass Malik gave me with shaking hands. At least they were no longer burned.

  “You may ask, but it will cost you.” She accepted the glass Malik held out to her.

  My heart was hammering in my throat, my magic slippery and uncontrollable. Sparks jumped off my skin.

  “Watch the furniture.” Malik sighed. “Every time you people come over I have to call in my decorators to fix it.”

  Lila chuckled. “Not like that. I want to experience a passionate memory of yours.”

  Cautiously, I powered down. “Steal it?”

  “No. Simply experience it. Relive it through you. It won’t hurt you in any way.”

  “It won’t,” Malik said. Was I really going to trust the word of one psycho that the other one wouldn’t hurt me?

  I examined the proposal for all the ways it could go wrong versus this opportunity to get answers, but no matter how I turned it over the request seemed fairly benign. “Deal.”

  Lila placed her hand on my shoulder. “Think of a pleasurable sexual memory.”

  My body went hot and tight, assaulted with images of Rohan’s hands on me, his lips, his cock.

  Lila inhaled with a husky gasp and a shiver.

  “What did you do?” I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself. My skin was prickly and ill-fitting, my core cold and queasy.

  “I told you. I lived your memory. The rush off that one small hit… You are a very lucky girl.”

  She glowed with satiated vitality, but I ached with a deep sorrow. She was right that it hadn’t hurt–physically. It was one thing to enjoy public sex, even get off on someone watching Rohan and me. That was from the outside. Lila had come into my memory and experienced it as I had, and in doing so diminished and tarnished it. I felt violated.

  I wanted a shower. And to curl up at Rohan’s side and let being with him make everything better. I wished he was here now. I’d gotten used to us working as a team. “My questions?”

  Lila waved a hand at me. “Ask away.”

  I visualized Snowflake sitting behind me, lending me the strength to get through this shit show. “Do the witches know you’re still kicking?”

  “I don’t know and don’t care. I don’t concern myself with witches, but I’m willing to make an exception about this binding business since Malik asked so nicely.”

  More sputtering from me, this time narrowly avoiding splashing my clothes with the wine. “You’re the one who can figure out the purple magic?”

  “Did you not tell her anything?” she chided Malik.

  “It’s more fun not to.” He dropped into his chair, legs crossed. Lila tsked him.

  My incredulity morphed into excitement. “Were you the witch that David made the deal with? To create Rasha?”

  “The betrayer? Much to my everlasting regret.” Lila had only presented a beautiful human face up until now, but with that question, her eyes glittered with malice.

  I hugged one of the sofa cushions to my chest, like that could protect me, seriously considering jumping out Malik’s thirty-storey window.

  Again.

  “I told you she was entertaining.” Malik helped himself to some goat cheese and a cracker.

  Lila hissed at him.

  I sat very still, not stupid enough to access my magic in her presence. “Was it because he’d fathered a demon?” Apparently, I was stupid enough to ask her another question.

  Sprawled in his chair, one foot propped on the coffee table, Malik raised his hand. “Can I take this one?”

  Lila reached for another olive. “You’re annoying and you never have anything sweet on hand.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Asmodeus wasn’t a mistake, petal. David wanted demon pets. He thought that fathering one would give him an unexpected wea
pon in the fight against us. He always did think out of the box.”

  “He was a hypocrite.” Lila’s lip curled in a sneer. “A man with big appetites and aspirations trying to justify them in a moral righteousness.”

  Reeling, I slugged back the rest of my wine. Was this why Mandelbaum was teaming up with the witches? To fulfill David’s crazy idea? Why didn’t anyone else in the Brotherhood know about all this? I had to talk to Rabbi Abrams. “But–”

  “One more question.” Lila stared at her hands, her shoulders drooping like my continued harping on the subject had sucked the fight out of her.

  “Are you all right?” I said.

  Lila’s turn toward me was slow and measured. “You would waste your last question on that?”

  When she put it that way, no, but I’d already gotten invaluable information and taking back my concern was too rude, even for me. “Yes.”

  “I don’t like reminders of that man. Mahlat was my favorite daughter.”

  Whoa. My brain was one more revelation away from imploding. “If you did become a demon, when?” I said this more to myself. “It had to be before David because by the time he came around you’d be…” I counted off years on my fingers.

  Lila smacked my hand down. “I have lived for so long that labels are irrelevant.”

  The timer went off and Malik walked toward the kitchen. “As you can see, it’s a touchy sub–” He gasped, clawing at his throat.

  I winced in sympathy. But better him than me.

  “You may have a proper final question,” Lila said.

  Malik jerking around, attempting to breathe was distracting. In a funny way, like a cat chasing after a laser pointer. Fireballs spurted off him, his limbs sporadically blurring into flame, but he couldn’t get past the hold that Lila had on him to lock into his protective fire form.

  The timer continued to sound, a shrill beep.