The Unlikeable Demon Hunter

by Deborah Wilde

  “Bath,” she proclaimed and marched me upstairs to my room.

  Sitting on the edge of my tub, testing the water, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Mom’s reaction was not unwarranted. My hair snarled in rat’s nest fashion. Giant sweat and pit stains graced my T-shirt. All I needed was a Pig Pen cloud of dirt to complete the look. Any confidence, any pride in my accomplishments today disappeared.

  First I took a fast shower, then I plugged the tub, shivering and waiting impatiently for it to fill. Finally, inching into the hot water, I slid onto my back, fully submerged except for my nose and lips.

  I brushed the underside of the tap with my big toe, catching the final tiny warm drops.

  The inset LEDs smudged a soft luminescence like a milky way across the ceiling. I lay there staring up at the world through my watery lens until my overwhelmed panic subsided. The same trick I’d used since I was a kid and hadn’t wanted anyone to know that I wasn’t tough enough to keep up with my brother, who generally took everything in stride.

  Being thrown into Demon Club was like playing the world’s craziest game of Survivor, except with no defined rules and a funeral service for a consolation prize. And now I was planning on taking on a major big bad. Was I crazy?

  Submerged in doubt as much as the water, only the water grew cold before I pulled the plug. Cocooning myself in a massive towel, I gave a curt nod to my reflection then headed into my room to slip into my softest worn cotton pjs. Rehashing today was not on the table.

  A while later, I was lost in the study of all the books I’d brought home, alternately fascinated and disgusted by the forms demons took, their various abilities, and the ways in which they could be killed. While none left any physical evidence once killed, some, like ghish demons, died in a whoosh of sulphuric stank so noxious it had been known to induce temporary blindness. It was all important information, but I’d gotten no closer to finding where Asmodeus’ sweet spot lay. He was a Unique. Maybe no one knew.

  I’d filled the book with color-coded sticky tabs and a growing pile of notes lay on my lap. While I loved technology, when it came to note taking, longhand was my preference. Something about the act of writing the information down instead of typing it helped me remember it better.

  Ari poked his head in, a bowl of steaming chicken soup in one hand.

  I inhaled deeply. “There better be matzoh balls in that.” The fluffy Jewish dumplings were, in my opinion, the best thing to come out of my religion. Except maybe that naked photo of Adam Levine in his all his tatted-up glory.

  “Like you even have to ask.” He placed the bowl on my bedside table.

  I eyed it, noting Mom had stuffed four giant matzoh balls in it plus put in extra carrot slivers. She must really have been freaked out by my appearance to give me the deluxe soup treatment.

  Not wanting my demon book or notes to get accidentally soupified, I moved everything over to one side of my bed. The pillows behind me were rearranged to optimize my eating position, then I picked up the warm bowl and dug in. I know the soup wasn’t literally magic, but it was soul-soothing. I sighed happily, the hot broth filling my belly. There was an art to matzoh ball making. With some people, it was like eating cannonballs, but Mom’s melted in my mouth.

  “I like big balls and I cannot lie,” I sang around a mouthful.

  “What set you off?” Ari regarded me from his usual spot at the foot of my bed, where he sat cross legged.

  “What do you know about a Rasha called Drio?”

  Ari shrugged. “Don’t know him. Why?”

  “He has it in for me. Things were said and he got me alone and…” I shivered remembering the aggressive dislike pouring off him. I chopped my remaining balls into bits. “I freaked out. The curupira was scary too, but when you’re female, a threatening human male taps into an entirely different kind of fear.” I met Ari’s eyes and he nodded in understanding. “My power went haywire. Then the chest pains kicked in and bam! Defibrillation.”

  He bunched up my comforter in his fists.

  The remaining soup was gone before I knew it, my spoon hitting the bottom with a clang. I peered into the bowl, as if staring might make a second helping appear. Sadly, no. Placing it on the night table beside me, I stroked my finger over my heart. “Ms. Clara said something about the cost of magic. Is this mine? Do I run the risk of dying every time I access my power?”

  “You’re not going to die,” he said.

  “You’re avoiding my question. Tell me, because I don’t have time to read my way through that library.”

  Ari toyed with the edge of my stack of notes. “She’s right about the cost. But ninety-nine percent of the time, the only thing you’ll feel is tired. Craving those electrolytes.”

  “And the one percent?” I asked.

  Ari hesitated.

  “Don’t sugarcoat it.” I grabbed my pen, on the verge of rolling off my mattress.

  He nodded reluctantly. “If you draw on the power for too long, or become agitated to the point where it controls you instead of the other way around? Yeah. It could kill you. In your case, via heart attack it seems.”

  I absorbed that, re-arranging my pillows to face Ari. “Then I have to control it. Now that I know it can happen and why, I won’t let the situation get away from me again.”

  “Just like that? Sheer will power?”

  “Do you doubt me?”

  My brother regarded me steadily before shaking his head. “What was it like training with Baruch?” he asked.

  “You looooove him.” I made a kissy noise.

  Ari raised his hands in tickle formation. “Keep talking, Katz. It’ll end in tears and pee.”

  I threw a pillow at him that he caught one-handed. “He’s amazing,” I said. “He knows how to both motivate me and push me.”

  “He breaks down battles looking for ways to improve our–their–odds.” Ari stumbled over the pronoun but caught himself. I kept my mouth shut. “Not to mention his inventions,” he said.

  “Yeah, what was that thing you mentioned the first night?”

  “The Stinger.” Ari’s face lit up. “Baruch found a way to stabilize demon secretions in a chemical compound that worked on the neural system of most demons to temporarily paralyze them. He dipped needle tips in the liquid then he designed a wrist holder that let the wearer flick the weapon at the target.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Why don’t all Rasha wear them then?”

  “Once you take the secretion from this particular demon, it dies. Kind of like a bee with its stinger. Which would be fine since the only good demon is a dead demon, but there aren’t a lot of this breed so Stingers are pretty rare.”

  “Wow. Tell me about Kane.” My sneaky segue failed to catch him off-guard.

  Ari spread his hands wide. Totally nonplussed. “What do you want to know?”

  “All that delightful antagonism back there? Did you screw him?”

  “He trained me for a while.”

  “Knowing you, that’s not even a euphemism,” I said.

  “I don’t think it’s appropriate to discuss your colleagues’ sex lives.”

  I shot him an incredulous look. “Of course it’s not appropriate. Why do you think everyone does it?”

  “You need new hobbies.”

  “You know I can sit here all night saying–” I adopted the whiniest voice I could– “did you sleep with Kane? Did you sleep with Kane? Did you–”

  He flung the pillow back at me. “No. Geez. Shut up already. I didn’t.”

  “But you wanted to.”

  Full credit to my brother, he nailed his poker face. The red flush on his neck, however, told a different story.

  “You like him,” I teased.

  “I really don’t. I may have at one time. Long ago in a galaxy far, far away.”

  I snorted.

  “But he’s toxic.”

  I gathered my notes up, tapping them into a neat pile. “That’s not fair. He can’t help having that poison power.”
/>   “I meant in his relationships. I wasn’t kidding about your power reflecting who you are. The magic reflects an aspect of the user’s personality. You shock. Kane poisons.”

  I sat up straight. This was fascinating. Wrong about me but amazing insight to have about everyone else. “What about Baruch? He’s so Zen and strong. How does that fit?”

  Ari worried at a hole in his jeans. “Baruch is a good guy.”

  “Relax, president of his fan club. This isn’t gossip.” Ari raised a single eyebrow. “Isn’t just gossip,” I clarified. “Pay attention. These guys are the ones sent to protect me. After today, I’m thinking that having the cheat sheet on them may help keep me alive as much as any fighting skills.”

  “Oh,” he conceded. “Smart thinking.”

  “No shit.”

  Ari rolled onto his side, laying his head on his bent arm. He rubbed a hand over his bleary eyes. At this angle, I saw the purple bags under them.

  “How you doing there?” I asked.

  “Neither homicidal nor suicidal so quit looking at me like that,” he said.

  He lay his fist under his cheek, a lock of blond hair falling across his brow. It was so reminiscent of his little kid self, but without his even-tempered, good natured air, that it took all my will power not to hug him. He despised pity. Or sympathy, which he always took as pity. Stupid boy.

  “My take on Baruch?” He scratched his jaw. “From what I’ve heard, he’s taken some bad hits fighting.”

  I waited out his pause.

  “He fights past the pain,” Ari said. “Not always in a good way. Like he’s denying its existence.”

  “So my guard consists of the poison prince, the man who refuses to admit he’s human, angry Italian whose powers are still unknown to me, and the human blade. What do you know about him? Rohan?”

  “Sorry, don’t know much about him either. As an initiate I was only in contact with Rasha who stayed at the chapter house.” Had Ari become Rasha that would have changed. He’d have been traveling the world, having adventures, and meeting his fellow brethren.

  I sighed, motioning for my brother to hand over his phone. “You got a new one?”

  “No longer an initiate. No longer worth tracking.”

  My hand closed tight around his phone. “Bastards.” I calmed myself remembering that I was going to make this right for him. Since I couldn’t do anything about that at this moment, I typed Rohan’s name in to Google. Ms. Clara still had mine but hey, this way no one could track my search history on Snowflake. Millions of hits. I started scrolling.

  “You’re not going to find Rasha intel online,” Ari pointed out. But he scooted closer to peer over my shoulder.

  “Not Rasha. Break up. Dude has a fuckton of baggage. There’s something going on with him and Drio. Love triangle maybe? Though I can’t tell which of them was the loser in the scenario because neither strikes me as the girlfriend type.” Saying the word “girlfriend” in conjunction with Rohan left a bad taste in my mouth.

  I gave up after about forty pages of search results, tossing him back his phone in disgust. “Nothing.”

  “Maybe neither was the winner.” Ari checked his email. “Demons, remember? People die.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. If that were true, if they’d been in love with the same girl and somehow she died? It would explain a lot of the weirdness today. I turned bleak eyes on Ari. “If demons come after Rasha’s loved ones, what does that mean for our family? I mean, what if one of them follows me home somehow?”

  My brother stuffed the phone in his back pocket. “The Rasha laid wards around the house earlier. It’ll keep us safe.”

  “That’s good.” Why was he staring at the corner of my wall like it fascinated him?

  “Spill.” I caught him in mid-rise, tumbling both of us on our asses on the bed.

  “Why do I have to be the bearer of bad news?” he snapped, jumping up again. “I’m not even one of them and I have to do their dirty work? Screw that.” He stormed from my room.

  I pursed my lips, reviewing everything we’d said in the last couple of minutes but try as I might, I couldn’t figure out what had set Ari off. I rewound further. Back to conversations at the Brotherhood’s mansion.

  I slipped on a pair of sneakers, threw a hoodie over my pajamas and pushed up my window. I couldn’t see anyone out in the dark yard, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. No way would Demon Club have left me unsupervised. It didn’t account for Ari’s freak out, but it did give me someone else to question.

  Taking my tree escape route, I dropped onto the ground with no attempt to be stealthy, since I wanted to be seen by whoever was on guard duty.

  The operative word being “seen.” Not tackled to the ground, hitting it with a hard whoosh as all my breath left me. Though that may have been for another reason as my body instinctively recognized the scent of iron and musk.

  “What have we here?” Rohan’s voice vibrated against me.

  I had to turn my head to answer or risk eating dirt. “Do you mean ‘we’ in the royal sense or are the voices in your head clamoring in unison?”

  He stretched out on top of me, pinning me more firmly between him and the ground. “You didn’t give the code word,” he said, lazy amusement threading his voice.

  “Eyeliner?” Grass tickled my cheek.

  “Nope. Two more wrong guesses and I’ll have to deal with you.”

  He was sick. Which made me doubly so because I shivered in pleasure at that so-called threat, my entire body yelling “throw the guesses!”

  “Hamsa?” I asked.

  “You Googled the engraving, huh?”

  I was many things. Stupid was not one of them. I slammed my crackling left hand into him, being careful to hit his leather jacket, since frying him was not conducive to securing his assistance.

  The zap was still enough to buck him off me, allowing me to roll out from under him.

  “Don’t mess with Lady Shock and Awe,” I warned.

  Rohan pulled on the jacket, examining it. “Fuck a duck, you’re giving yourself superhero names already?” He rubbed the small scorch mark on his upper sleeve, then scowled.

  “Your predilection for fowl aside,” I flicked a spark of electricity at him. “I have a question.”

  “Good for you.” He stood up, brushing off his ass.

  Yeah, I looked. Yeah, he caught me. Yeah, I shrugged.

  I pushed to my feet. “A nice butt won’t get you out of answering, Emo Snowflake.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “It’s not your superhero name? Never mind.” I patted his cheek. “I’ll find you something.”

  “Lucky me.” Rohan motioned for me to follow him out of the moonlight and into the shadows. “What’s the question?”

  I twirled a finger indicating the perimeter of my yard. “I know there are wards. You’re here guarding me. So why was it weird when I asked to go home? What did Ari refuse to tell me?”

  “You can stay here tonight but tomorrow you move into the chapter house.” He placed his hand over my mouth to keep me from protesting. “It’s the safest place for you to be. Especially if Asmodeus learns it was you.”

  When, not if.

  I pulled his hand off, resisting the urge to suck one of his fingers into my mouth. “Okay.” Was it getting hotter out here? I pushed my hoodie sleeves up.

  He tensed. “That’s it? No fight?”

  “You have a fabulous impression of my intelligence. I’ll explain this once so remember it. I’m not stupid. I’m also not endangering my family.” I wound a curl around my finger, all casual. “Hey, I was just thinking. I know you checked actors on Samson’s film, but what about the rest of the crew?”

  Rohan rubbed the back of his hand across his chin. He hadn’t shaved since yesterday, and the dark stubble along his jaw combined with the steely glint of his eyes was insanely hot, giving him a dangerous air. Correction. More dangerous.

  “Drio checked producers, directors
, all other above-the-line positions on King’s last few films against the database maintained by intelligence,” Rohan said. “No hits.”

  Damn. “There’s a database?”

  I guess I said it a little too fervently because Rohan held up his hand. “Stand down, Lolita. You don’t get to troll for famous people we suspect.”

  Someday. When I was allowed to do more than just train and prove I should be allowed to continue breathing.

  Now that I’d been out here a while in my pajamas, my skin was beginning to get goosebumps. I tugged my sleeves back down, zipping my hoodie up against the cool night air. “What about Samson’s make-up artist?” I tapped my finger against my lip. “Obviously Samson is glamoured up and I get that if he is a demon, he’s far more powerful than Josh, but when Josh got… excited, he flickered. Actors spend a lot of time with their make-up artists and maybe he’d want someone trustworthy around him in case he exposed himself.”

  Rohan was already texting a note to Drio to check it out.

  “Seeing as I’m so useful–”

  “Potentially,” he said.

  “How about a little quid pro quo?” I figured I’d work up to specific details. “I’m thinking that the downfall of a major demon would be just the thing to get the Brotherhood to listen to me.”

  Rohan slid his phone back into his pocket. “Don’t even think of going out to look for one. You wouldn’t know where to begin and you can’t take one on.”

  “Rohan…” He waited while I debated how much of my Ari worries to share. “My brother isn’t doing well. I’m scared he may not recover from this.” My voice shook. “I know he’s still an initiate and if I have some leverage that gets the Brotherhood to check and confirm it–”

  “They’ll induct him right away, and Ari will have his magic to keep him safe,” Rohan finished.

  “Yeah.” I shot him my best beseeching look.

  He sighed. “I feel for you and Ari both, but you need to be patient. It hasn’t even been a week. Rushing into situations you’re not yet ready for gets you dead.”