The Unlikeable Demon Hunter

by Deborah Wilde

  “Like hunter Homeland Security?” I glanced at Baruch to see if he’d weigh in but he was checking something on his phone.

  Ms. Clara kept up the explanation. “Security on an international level. They monitor crimes across the globe for certain details that could be evidence of demonic activity. Social media activity as well as anything gleaned through work under DSI. All intelligence gathered goes through them before being handed over to Rasha as specific missions.”

  I shook out my hand. “James Bond epic.”

  “As for the cookies–”

  “Really, really good cookies,” I interjected.

  Her expression softened. “Thank you, doll. I like making cookies.” She picked up a stress ball from her desk, squeezing it. “With this bunch in town, I need all the stress relief I can get.” She winged the ball at Baruch’s head, nailing him in the temple and killing his amused eye blinks.

  Baruch bent to retrieve the ball from the floor and placed it back on her desk. He tucked his hair behind his ears, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Our stress is what makes you the most in-demand dominatrix in the country. You wouldn’t be half so good if we didn’t push you to your breaking point.”

  “You wouldn’t even begin to know where I break,” Ms. Clara replied darkly.

  “Perhaps not.” Baruch shrugged and I leaned in. This was better than HBO. Oh, to have popcorn.

  Sadly, Ms. Clara veered off the juicy stuff to give me a lecture about requisition forms that was so dull, my eyes glazed over. Though I did perk up a bit at the myriad of medical treatments I was entitled to. “Two massage therapy sessions a month, you say?”

  “No one uses them,” Baruch said with a dismissive wave.

  Ms. Clara eyed him with distaste before turning back to me. “I’d be happy to provide you with a list of approved practitioners.”

  Twisting her monitor back into position, she pressed her palm to a small pad on her desk to be scanned. Once the light turned green, she started typing. “Better than a password,” she said, noting my curiosity.

  I placed the last of the signed forms in the file. The Brotherhood could proclaim Rabbi Abrams was in charge here, but it was clear to me who really ran the show.

  The final item of business was to get my palm scanned so I could access the Vault and stuff on my own. Ms. Clara explained it would take twenty-four hours to process, then pronounced us done.

  “Excellent. I promise to behave like a pampered princess and exploit every last thing I’m entitled to.”

  One side of her mouth quirked up at that. “Provided you have the correct requisition form,” she said.

  That’s when Baruch hit his limit. He engulfed my hand in his and tugged me to my feet. “Yes, Nava will pretend the best of intentions for your forms and you will pretend you don’t enjoy filling everything out on our behalf, and natural order will be maintained.”

  He dragged me to the door.

  “Leave the pen,” Ms. Clara called out.

  Baruch growled.

  I tossed it back at her as I cleared the door, being rewarded with a wink.

  Oh yeah. Way better than cable.

  Baruch warmed up on the punching bag. I watched him in amazement for a few minutes as I stretched. I’d never seen anyone’s fist almost punch through the bag before. The most astounding thing of all was how calm he was. It was pretty sexy the way he pummeled the thing in a total state of Zen. The fact that he’d taken off his shirt and was working out bare-chested didn’t hurt the cause any, even if he was more muscular than my tastes generally ran.

  One thing Baruch had gotten into my skull was staying in the present during any fighting since letting my thoughts wander led to meatsack tenderization. Even with my accelerated healing, I was tenderized enough. “Doesn’t super strength usually come with anger issues?”

  He stopped punching.

  “I mean, you’re pretty mellow. Which is great. I, for one, would not want my baggage infringing on Drio’s. Because holy wow, two wounded angry people. That’s not even counting Rohan, although Drio would win any diva-off hands down.”

  Baruch lifted the punching bag off the hook with one hand. “Do you say everything you think?”

  “Nope. Amazingly I share merely a fraction of the brilliance in my head.” I followed him over to the wall.

  He touched a light on a small display panel and part of the wall slid away to reveal another good-sized room, filled top to bottom with weapons and training equipment.

  “Cool,” I breathed, peering in. “Did you design all these?”

  “Some.” He pushed me back a few steps. “You haven’t unlocked entrance privileges yet,” he said, heading inside.

  “Nerd,” I teased.

  He gave me a sheepish grin as he stashed the bag up on a hook.

  I eyed the weapons: knives of all shapes and sizes, throwing stars, staffs, iron-based things that I couldn’t discern the purpose of but given their scary shape was certain I was better off without the visual, boxing gloves, pads, and whatever was stored in the cabinets running the length of one wall. No guns though.

  The Brotherhood required a massive bottom line to run.

  “Who funds the Brotherhood? Can we change the name now that I’m here?”

  “It funds itself and no. Hundreds of years in investments plus, these days, the income DSI brings in.” He smiled. “We don’t come cheap. The Brotherhood takes care of us. If we die, our funeral expenses are handled.”

  My gut twisted at that last sentiment. “You’re awfully matter-of-fact about death.”

  He spread his hands wide. “We do what we do. We try not to die but it happens. Which is why I will train you to have the best shot at walking away.”

  See, this was a guy who genuinely had my back. “Teach me fight moves.” Defense wasn’t going to be enough when I came up against Asmodeus.

  He assessed me for a long moment. “Most demons will be larger than you. Stronger.”

  “That’s a yes, then?”

  “But that also means their balance and speed is compromised as a result.”

  I eyed him up and down. “Speaking from experience are we, Tree Trunk?”

  “You’re very annoying,” he said.

  “It’s my birth power,” I replied.

  “Oh? That’s not being delusional?”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Baruch Ya’ari,” I said. “He’s here all week. Try the shrimp.”

  He peered at me. “Is English your first language?”

  “Vaudeville? The old schtick? Nothing?” I shook my head in dismay before dancing around him, throwing air punches.

  He swatted me away. “Build up your side to side movement. Get inside the tip of their punches and kicks. Build an infighting and clinch game. Get comfortable striking and fighting from your back in case you’re thrown down.”

  Baruch showed me some basic moves–a couple of punches and a few kicks–running me through them over and over again, making minute adjustments. Talking me through both my mistakes and what I was doing right.

  I stripped down to my sports bra and booty shorts which was great on the heat front but left more exposed skin, and psychologically, made me feel more vulnerable. My muscles quivered as every attack became more of a grinding exertion.

  The flooring pads became sticky with sweat, each footstep a pronounced slapping sound, the room turning steamy and dank. Finally, Baruch called a much-desired halt to the training but only to bring Kane down to ensure I didn’t get complacent fighting just him.

  Kane raised an eyebrow as he handed me a glass of Ms. Clara’s electrolyte-filled iced tea. “Well?” he asked Baruch.

  I’d gulped back the cold liquid by the time his question was asked.

  “Help me attack her on two fronts,” Baruch said.

  I left the empty glass in a corner, my arms wobbly. “Awesome.”

  Seeing me swipe at the sweat on my neck, Kane boosted the air conditioning to blessed arctic levels and then the two of them leapt into
battle against me. All right, they engaged me in slow motion combat while Baruch barked grips, counter-grips, and attack strategy, showing me how to use my weight against them.

  The cool part was making connections on my own about how and where certain moves would come in handy. When my suggestions were wrong, the guys showed me why, then explained the better way of proceeding.

  “For someone who hasn’t spent years training, you pick things up fast,” Kane said, after I’d executed a pretty sweet roundhouse kick.

  “Your power isn’t there yet and your technique is rough, but balance, even speed?” Baruch’s approving eye blink was the sweetest compliment ever.

  “I’m not a trained fighter, but I am a trained dancer. I was always good at picking up moves quickly, getting new routines faster than other people. Tap taught me balance, weight placement, being aware of my body. Those skills are transferable,” I informed them.

  “Those skills are a foundation,” Baruch said. “Do the kick again. Don’t throw your left hip out so much this time.”

  Neither of them held back or went easy on me because I was female. I appreciated that up until the point that I collapsed on burning legs with a plea of “Have mercy!” Not even my most rigorous dance session had drained me this much.

  Kane prodded my belly with a toe. My tummy jiggled. His bare-chested, rock hard body didn’t. “We better feed her. And hose her off.”

  I think I gave him the finger but I might have just imagined it, distracted as I was by the shiny of his nipple rings. That boy had two modes of dress–barely and horribly. I vowed to do a fashion intervention one day.

  “For God’s sakes, woman, get up,” Kane said, holding a hand out to me.

  I lay there, too tired to even reach for him. “Can I have a cookie?” I wheezed.

  “Yes, Nava,” Baruch said, sounding amused. “You may. They’re in the cupboard upstairs.”

  “Will you get it for me? Pleeeeeeaaaase?”

  He nodded, pulling his hair free from his elastic band. Pretty hair.

  “Todah rabah,” I called out in thanks as he and Kane left. I closed my eyes, my arm thrown over my face. If I played my cards right, maybe I could pull this off. Maybe Ari and I could be real live Wonder Twins soon. But you know, not lame. For the first time since I’d become Rasha, I felt like I could take a deep breath.

  Footsteps neared and fabric swished as Baruch knelt down beside me. I opened my eyes, hand out to take the cookie, and then drew back. It wasn’t Baruch. It was Drio, squatting down. I burst into full-body Lady Shock mode, my exhaustion trumped by adrenaline.

  “Showing off or scared?” he smirked.

  “Touch me and find out.” I sat up as calmly as I could manage, given I was alone with a man who aggressively hated me and whose powers were a giant question mark. I didn’t trust his promise to keep me safe.

  Where were my guards? The ones that liked me. Or at least tolerated me.

  He pursed his lips. “Just came to see the progress. Checking if you’re earning your keep.”

  “Impressed?” My heart was hammering and I could feel the electricity rising and falling like swells within me.

  “I’ve seen better.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.” I scrambled to my feet, sparking so brightly that residual blue sunspots danced before my eyes.

  Drio stood up as well. “Shut it down.” He scowled at me.

  The electricity flared, cresting off my skin in sharp bursts. I tried to visualize the off-switch but nothing happened.

  “Nava.” He grabbed me by the shoulders, but after one quick shake was forced to release me, flinching in the wake of my magic.

  A hot tight pain speared my chest. I clutched at it, my eyes watering, sensing this was all about to go sideways.

  “Porco Dio,” Drio swore. “Baruch!” he yelled.

  I hyperventilated. Pops and crackles jumped off my skin, a metal burning smell clogging my nostrils.

  Footsteps pounded down the stairs.

  I fell to my knees, feeling every charged particle in my body as the electricity wrapped around me like a snake with its coily embrace. I wheezed, desperate for air.

  A heavy blanket lined with rubber enveloped me, arms holding tight around me. “You’re safe,” Rohan said. “Turn it off, Nava. You can do it.”

  My cheek pressed against the blanket resting on his chest, I latched on to the even rise and fall of his breathing like it was my lifeline. He kept murmuring to me that I was safe, cradling me in his arms, and ignoring the small sparks not contained by the blanket that were blackening his skin in tiny dots. His voice was hypnotic, soothing me enough that my magic turned off. But I still couldn’t breathe for the pain lancing my chest. I shot him a panicked look.

  Rohan lay me down on the floor. The last thing I heard was, “Clear!”

  Not more current, I thought, and blacked out.

  I came to, still on the padded floor, with four male faces showing varying degrees of concern hovering over me. Baruch crumpled the rubber blanket in one hand. Kane held a defibrillator limply. Rohan’s left eyebrow was scorched.

  It wasn’t until I saw Drio, his hands burned from my magic, watching me like he’d missed some kind of manslaughter opportunity, that I was reassured I was okay. I struggled to sit up, Baruch assisting me.

  I squinted at the electrodes placed around my sports bra, hooking me up to the bastard child of a fax and an answering machine. Ticker tape stuck out of one end of it. “What happened?”

  I had to clear my throat a couple of times to get the words out.

  “Not a heart attack,” Ms. Clara said cheerfully. I scrunched up my face in confusion and she tapped the machine. “Portable ECG.” She pulled the electrodes off of me.

  “You’re qualified to read it, how?”

  “Two years of med school before I dropped out. Apparently I didn’t have the right bedside manner.”

  “O-kay.”

  “You got… riled up,” Rohan said.

  I glared at Drio who bared his teeth at me. “By-product of him wanting me dead,” I said.

  “He doesn’t want–” Kane began.

  “I don’t?” Drio asked.

  “Drio,” Rohan warned.

  “I was being friendly and she freaked out.” Drio cocked his thumb and forefinger like a gun, rocking them from side to side in some kind of Italian hand gesture. “Our new Rasha doesn’t play well with others.”

  I tugged my clammy T-shirt over my head. “If you call your passive-aggressive intimidation ‘being friendly’ then you’ve got the social graces of a walnut. Pony up. You wanted my power off so you could hurt me.”

  “It was becoming unstable.” He tapped his forefinger to his temple. “You’re unstable. Are you on your period?”

  Sparks literally shot from my eyes.

  Baruch blocked Drio from me, saving him from being turned into a human tiki torch.

  The proverbial straw had hit this camel’s back. “I’m out of here.”

  The guys did that annoying silent communication thing. Seriously could kill the alpha brood right now.

  “Home it is,” Ms. Clara said, with an undecipherable look at them. I didn’t know what I was missing here and frankly, I didn’t care.

  Ms. Clara helped me up. I didn’t have it in me to make polite small talk, so I grabbed my shoes and left the room without saying goodbye. Ms. Clara accompanied me, retrieving my messenger bag, along with my hoodie.

  “Thank you.” I pulled out my phone as we exited onto the porch, calling home for a ride and determined to keep my shit together until someone from my family came and got me.

  The second I hung up, Ms. Clara held out her hand for the phone, giving me a slip of paper from her pocket in return as my receipt. “You’ll get another one when you hand in the laptop,” she assured me. Because that was such a concern right now.

  We sat outside on the top step, waiting. The sun provided a welcome warmth and the sound of a car driving by blasting Top 40 went a long way
to making me feel normal.

  “Is that going to happen to me every time?” I threaded my hands in my hair, weary beyond belief.

  “The instability or the heart problem?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Magic takes a while to master, but you’ll get there.” Her expression grew distant. “The thing about magic powers is that there’s a cost.”

  “How come you’re a part of all this?”

  She blinked back to attention. “My dad was Rasha.”

  Past tense noted. “Sorry.”

  She shrugged. “Not your fault.”

  Kane joined us, his footsteps creaking the weathered boards. “Rest easy tonight, babe.”

  “Thanks,” I said, peering up at him, one hand shielding my eyes from the sun.

  My dad’s Prius fishtailed up the driveway. Ari threw open the driver’s side, engine still running. He raced over to me in his frayed T-shirt and jeans. I’d never seen him this upset.

  “What did you do to her?” he spat at Kane.

  Ms. Clara squeezed my hand and went inside.

  “Danger comes with the job,” Kane said. He braced a hand on the top of the railing. “She knows this.”

  Ari led me to the car. He bundled me in, then slammed my door so hard I jumped. “You were supposed to take it easy on her,” he said.

  Had they discussed me before? I shamelessly eavesdropped through Ari’s open door.

  “Around here we do what has to be done.” Kane sat down on the top step, almost insolent in his indifference. “That’s how it works at the adults’ table.”

  Bastard. I put my hand on the door handle ready to lay into Kane but Ari surprised me.

  He threw Kane a cool smile. “Keep telling yourself that.” On that note, he got into the car and we drove away.

  10

  I lasted all of ten seconds before I opened my mouth to demand an explanation but Ari cut me off. “Rest. We can talk later.” I would have protested, but the next thing I knew, he was shaking me awake. “Rise and shine. We’re home.”

  The sky flamed gold for one brief instance before relaxing into the pink and oranges of sunset. That was pretty. My mother’s scream of horror at the sight of me stumbling into the house, not so much. She tried to backpedal but you know, there’s no coming back from reacting to your kid like she’s something out of a scary movie.