by Lucia Ashta
Copyright 2018 Lucía Ashta.
All rights reserved.
Published by Awaken to Peace Press.
This book is a work of fiction.
Cover design by Vraciu Andreea Elena.
Edited by Elsa Crites.
I strive to produce error-free books. If you discover a mistake, please contact me at [email protected] so I may correct it. Thank you!
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About Huntress of the Unseen
Demon huntress Katsumi has never allowed herself a weakness. Until now.
Kat has a rare gift—really, a curse. She sees the nasty beasts from the underworld when nobody else does.
And she fights them. Like it or not, it’s her duty. All her life, she’s trained to be a huntress.
Now demons have stolen the man she loves to draw her out. She’s the only one who can get him back … and the skinwalker has done everything to ensure she won’t.
For those who honor their duty,
no matter the cost
Every legend springs from a seed of truth.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Make a difference
Acknowledgments
Read more by Lucía Ashta
About the author
Chapter One
Fear renders you vulnerable.
I knew this. My mentor drilled it into my brain over months of grueling training.
I should have been prepared for what waited on the other side of that theater door.
Darkness seeped through cracks like a plague, seeking to infect and be done with me before I even spotted the enemy. I sensed it reaching, pulling, caressing... as if I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of fulfilling whatever dark pursuits I dreamed of in secret.
I wanted to turn and run—more than anything, that’s what I wanted. I didn’t wish to see the cavernous faces of shadow that swarmed beyond that door. They turn your blood to freezing cold lead that threatens to stop pumping through your veins.
I had no desire to move beyond that door. No need.
Only I did.
The stakes were higher than ever before. I’d done the one thing I’d sworn never to do once the exorcist tracked me down. Once he told me I’d have to fight demons, I promised I’d never give them anything to hold over me—no greater leverage than they already had by threatening to steal my own life and deliver me to an afterlife of torment.
But my heart betrayed me. I fell in love with a man. It was an accident, and I surely hadn’t meant to, but it was well and truly done.
Aleksei smiled with mischief, and his laugh—the deep one when he really got going—made me indulge naughty thoughts.
And, like a damnable fairytale, demons had stolen him in the night while I slept next to him, unaware. I was trained to fight demons, to resist their lure and influence, yet they’d snatched the man I loved from my bed.
They knew I’d come for him, the man whose path might have never intersected with the underworld if not for me.
My demon-hunting mentor’s words looped through my mind like a mantra. If you fear, the demon wins. His gravelly voice brooked no argument. Battle a demon with fear in your heart, and it would win before the fighting even really started.
My mentor had been one adept warrior. He wasn’t anymore. After a lifetime of battling demons, they’d finally gotten to him, and he was no longer able to guide me to become his replacement. Doctors said it was a stroke, but I understood that demons had trapped him in his body.
I couldn’t rely on his strength any longer. I had only my own.
The fine, almost-invisible hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end. How many demons swarmed beyond the innocent-looking door of the nineteenth-century theater? Too many, of that I was certain.
When the imposing man my teacher had been first tracked me down, I’d assumed demons—if they even existed—hovered over spoons that cooked heroine in abandoned alleyways. I imagined they could only feed on the desperate, who’d already surrendered so much of themselves. If they didn’t loiter in crack dens, then surely they were merely a pestilence of murdering mobsters and dictators who plotted genocide over breakfast.
When my mentor announced he’d had some kind of vision that suggested I was going to be his apprentice, I’d stared, wide eyed. Surely I’d misheard the crazy man with the bright white hair and piercing light eyes. I was no exorcist, a fact I was quite happy about, thank you very much. He could go right back to whatever psych ward he’d escaped from.
But then he’d brought up the shadows, the ones I’d convinced myself weren’t real beyond nightmares, and somewhere along the line, in some sick twist of fate, I’d become what I never wanted to be: a threat to the demons and now their number one target.
I ran a hand over the back of my neck, trying to relax the prickly sensation. I failed. Every part of me realized that I enjoyed a false peace; it was really the calm before the storm, the kind of storm that raged and devastated entire villages and was talked about in hushed tones for centuries to come.
I hovered my hands over the katanas which hung at either side of my waist. My samurai ancestors would consider it a travesty that I flouted so many of their customs and carried two of the traditional Japanese swords instead of one. But my ancestors were long dead, and I was about to face a devastating enemy.
Touching my swords reassured me even though the foes on the other side of the theater entrance wouldn’t fear the shiny, sharp metal. My only real weapon against the demons was my personal power—whatever magic I could convince my subconscious was mine to wield.
When I was a child, my grandparents had spouted what sounded like superstitious nonsense, and whenever I pressed them on it, they’d say, The old ways only bring trouble. Better to leave the ways of our ancestors to rest. I was on my own in figuring out the strange things happening to me. I had been for a long time.
For a few moments I allowed myself to feel as delicate as my slender, five-foot frame suggested. Then I got over that shit.
Alek was somewhere in that hall intended for drama, just not the real kind. And while he might be intimidating in the hole-in-the-wall sparring gym where we met, size and muscles meant nothing in the unseen arena.
He was no better prepared to fight demons than a regular schmo off the street. If he were to live, I’d have to save him. It was as simple as it was terrifying, the one thing above all else I wasn’t allowed to be.
I forced myself to ignore that I was human while nothing beyond Alek would be once I pulled open that door. I replayed my mentor’s voice, trying to imbue it with as much power as he had. You’re no mere human. You’re spirit in a body that happens to look human. Stop acting like a puny woman—something I’d never been, I was sure of it—and start acting like the fearsome demon huntress you are.
The memory didn’t pep me into going in with proverbial guns blazing, but it was as close as I’d get to the real thing. My mentor might have been harsh, but he always managed to spark a flame under my derriere.
Before I could hesitate any longer, I put a hand to the large, ornate handle that was the pinnacle of elegance in the 1800s. The metal, ordinarily chilly, was so cold it burned. Great darkness could achieve that without trying, one of the side effects it didn’t bother to hide since few recognized it for what it was.
My instincts screamed to drop the
burning-cold thing and run for my life.
I told my instincts to shut the hell up and yanked the damn door open.
Chapter Two
A rush of dark, cold air burned against my face as I stepped into a large vestibule where ushers used to greet patrons of the arts and take their coats. Those quaint times were long gone. I felt as if I’d walked into a cave, every one of its crevices hiding dark and terrifying secrets.
My hands twitched toward my katanas out of habit. If only the fight I was entering was the kind where hard, gleaming weapons would make a difference.
Tall, narrow windows with old, lead glass lined the vestibule. The sunlight of the bright morning should have illuminated the hall.
It didn’t.
I’d entered a space where normal rules didn’t apply. Where the unseen bent what humanity believed to be infallible, and forces operated in new ways, always to the shadow world’s advantage. Demons, warriors of the underworld, didn’t play fair. To them, principles of fairness were abstract notions to entertain philosophers and others who didn’t see the world around them for what it really was: a war zone.
I’d never entered the historic theater before. The space was unfamiliar with its narrow halls so different than the buildings of our time. Archaic light fixtures hovered overhead, dangling low, but I didn’t bother locating a switch. I wouldn’t announce my weakness by needing light. I was the light—or something like that—my mentor would have said it in a roar.
I passed the narrow door to a ladies’ restroom and inched onward, toward the performance area, where I knew I’d find demons and... Alek. I gulped, hoping to forget why I was there, what was at risk, and what it would be like to have to live on, knowing I’d lost the only man I’d allowed myself to love.
I shook loose thoughts of life without Alek. If I considered the what ifs, I’d die in futility—as would he.
No fear. None. Not even a little bit. Or all would be lost already.
I moved with soft, sure steps, grateful I was the kind of woman who preferred comfortable shoes to stylish torture. Stilettos were not the footwear of the demon huntress.
I reached a set of double doors, one of the entrances to the seating area, it had to be. I touched another set of ornate handles. My brain understood they should be warm since they were indoors; my body registered they were dry ice to the touch. I drew back as if burned.
No fear. I’m spirit in human form. I’m trained to fight demons. The pep talk worked, but nominally. It wouldn’t hold long.
I grabbed for the handle and pulled it toward me before I could consider what I was doing any more than I already had. Thinking didn’t help much when it came to fighting demons. There were no spells or sigils to remember, no incantations to spout, no fancy hand movements to save the day.
Demon combat relied on raw power. The battles were ones of will, where belief was everything. If you believed you might fail, then your failure was guaranteed. If you believed in your victory, then you at least had a chance.
I gathered my power while I blinked against the harsh lights.
Where the vestibule was dark as a foggy night, the seating area and stage were lit up as if a cleaning crew had invaded the theater instead of a horde of demons. I wasn’t prepared for the brightness. The demons had probably done it only to throw me off. They were creatures of darkness with an abhorrence—but not weakness—for light.
A single cackle rang out into the open space, proving that acoustics that were once good remained so. Row after row of seats were empty of the people they were designed for, and the sound of grating laughter hit me like a slap to the cheek.
I ignored the demon-man behind the sound and searched for Alek. I moved only my eyes as if the demons didn’t already know that their bait had worked.
There! A milling mass of flying, writhing specters encircled Alek, who stood with muscles coiled to strike, I could tell even across the theater. My warrior man... all his strength in the ring would do nothing to save him here.
I met his eyes in flickers, between fly-bys of smoke and shadow. Apparently gagged and bound, he didn’t look frightened! That astonished me more than waking to find the mattress beside me cold and the stub of a torn performance ticket on the night table as if discarded as an afterthought.
How could he stand there, amid demons, and not be scared? It seemed impossible. I imagined what kind of cold the demons must be radiating. They were masters at turning your thoughts to dark deeds and hatred, of suggesting you believe that everything good in the world was a lie that everyone you knew was in on.
I’d once stood in the middle of a circle like Alek did, only there were fewer demons and my mentor had been there to dispel them. I’d already discovered I had enough raw, untapped power inside me to fight the creatures, and still I’d quaked in my boots and prayed to maintain my dignity while he slayed the demons that meant to take me out before he could teach me.
My mentor had swooshed and swished his hands in the air in front of him, and beams of dancing light had followed his movements like tracers. He hadn’t needed weapons of any kind beyond those of his own making, and I’d believed most words out of his mouth ever since.
But Alek... He was a big man who’d obviously stared down his own personal nightmares; I sensed that every time I looked into his eyes. They were still and sad in a way that could only come from overcoming a great loss. He was strong, fast, and deadlier than me with all weapons but the katana. He could leap farther than a man should and get up after blows that would have knocked lesser men out cold.
But demons, not humans, threatened him—a distinction that makes a difference.
I felt more terrified than he looked, and fear wasn’t the choice that led to survival.
“How lovely of you to join us.”
I snapped to look at the demon who occupied a man’s skin and spoke in a voice far too cordial. To anyone else, the demon, who traipsed up an aisle toward me, would look like a gentleman well used to leisure. He was dressed in the ways of wealth and walked with practiced ease.
He was the most dangerous demon of them all. The kind who could look like one of us—the kind who did look like one of us—and infiltrated all levels of society.
The incorporeal demons influenced humanity in a way that caused devastating damage. The demons who posed as humans did far worse. They were bosses, board members, bar tenders, and lovers. They were co-workers, friends, and neighbors. They could sit next to you on a plane or smile at you as they let you walk through the door ahead of them, every single one of their actions part of an insidious scheme.
Unless someone like me stopped them, their intentions would run their course. People would suffer and eventually die. And the world would continue as if humanity hadn’t been infiltrated by the enemy.
“You took so long in coming that I feared you wouldn’t join us.”
I knew who he was. I understood he was a mack-daddy of the underworld. Even so, I struggled to see him for what he was beneath his smooth moves and ten-thousand-dollar suit.
“That would have been a terrible shame. After all, I threw this party for you.” He continued moseying up the aisle, his expensive shoes slapping softly against the marble tile. I wondered how many demons had walked in human skins along that very aisle, the crowd around them oblivious.
“If you think this is a party, then you don’t know as much as you think about us humans.” I was proud of myself for keeping my voice level.
“Ah, I see I wasn’t clear. The party hasn’t started yet. We were waiting for you.” He drew to a stop ten feet from me, close enough that I could see the way his eyeballs vibrated in their sockets and smell the stink of depravity, which his rich cologne didn’t manage to cover, all over his tanned skin and slimy smile. “Now we can start.”
He said now with finality. It chilled me to the bone.
“Start what, exactly?” I probably shouldn’t have asked. Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked anything at all and just started blasting the crap out
of the beasts.
But Alek was up there on stage looking all stoic and invincible... and I loved him. I needed to learn what the skin walker planned so I could stop it. The truth was that my body and mind wanted to react to that part of me that was unable to lie about our odds of survival. The rest of me chanted no fear and moved to obey.
“What an unexpected question, lovely Katsumi. Not in my wildest dreams would I have imagined you’d indulge me in revealing my Machiavellian plan.”
“You don’t dream.”
“No, of course not, but I like to express myself like you humans do. It makes the rest of it that much more enjoyable.”
Don’t do it. Don’t ask. “The rest of what?”
“Torturing and hurting and causing you so much pain that you beg me to kill you, of course.” He spoke in a sing-songy voice, the way one did when discussing the lackadaisical adventures of an early summer day, filled with the scents of wildflowers. “And I’m going to start with this creature you love. You can take a seat there and watch while the show begins momentarily.”
“Like hell I will.” An irony, no doubt, given that I was speaking with an emissary of Hell or wherever he actually came from.
I slung my hands in a flicking motion. Katanas made of light sprang to life.
Chapter Three
“Oh, goody,” the inhuman creep with good fashion sense said. “I was hoping you’d put up a fight. Resistance is always so... fun.” He brought long, elegant fingers to his lips and kissed them, as if he’d just enjoyed a delicious, gourmet meal.