Dark Hunt

by Kim Richardson

  I stood in the bucket of water, taut and wired, waiting for whatever was supposed to happen. My head throbbed with the pressure of my blood, making me dizzy.

  “Nothing’s happening,” whispered Tyrius. “Maybe you did something wrong?”

  “Shhh,” I snapped. But that was exactly what I was thinking. I was an amateur. Maybe I’d misread one of the Latin words. What if I didn’t summon an angel… what if I’d summoned something else?

  Just as I began to second guess my witch-casting abilities, a wind that came from inside my apartment, with all the windows closed, lifted strands of my hair. The light from the candles flickered, sending looming, twisted shadows to dance on the walls. My nose wrinkled at the smell of lemons and oranges—the scent of angels. Immediately I felt a pull in my chest all the way down into my toes. Panicked, I looked down to see the water swirling into a whirlpool around my ankles. The pull crushed my lungs. I couldn’t breathe.

  Searing pain jutted through me, and for a moment I thought my insides were burning like hot wax as a force surged into me. I tried to get out, tried to lift one of my legs, but it was like trying to lift a giant concrete block. My body was cemented into place. I couldn’t move.

  What the hell have I done?

  Over the pulsing power in my ears, I heard Tyrius calling out to me, but I couldn’t even move my lips. My skin prickled from the wind blowing around me. The power of the spell ran through me like boiling water.

  And then the pull subsided, and I felt the use of my body return to me, but the water at my ankles kept a constant swirl. The heat rushed from me, leaving a sick, cold feeling in my stomach. I was dizzy and nauseated. My throat was raw, my mouth dry and when I reached up to touch my face, it was soaked and sticky.

  “Hold on to your butts—it worked!” cried Tyrius.

  I blinked the black spots from my vision and my breath caught.

  There in the middle of my chalk-drawn star was an angel.

  14

  At first, I wasn’t sure it was an angel, just a shifting blur of shadow, but then a figure solidified out of the darkness.

  The angel was male, tall, his muscled body covered in dark leather that reminded me of the scales of a dragon. A long sword was strapped down the column of his spine. His face was human, blessed with unnatural good looks, his features sculpted to perfection. His face was too perfect, and it gave me the willies. Long white hair spilled down his back past his waist. His skin was fair, so much so that at first glance I thought he was an albino. But his eyes were the color of the morning sky. And like all angels, his skin gave off a brilliant glow, as though light illuminated him from inside. Strangely, he reminded me of Legolas from The Lord of the Rings movies.

  Surprise sparked through me, driving my pulse faster. It had worked.

  The angel’s face frowned when he caught sight of me, standing in the bucket of water before him. His face was masked in shadow as he growled and said, “What is the meaning of this? Where am I?” His voice was cold and cut through the room like lightning on a stormy night. He tried to pull his legs from the bucket, and his face went a few degrees angrier when he realized he was trapped.

  I knew he couldn’t step out of the water, not until I said the words to release the spell, just like I wasn’t able to step out either. The angel and I were connected, bound together through blood and water.

  I watched as his blue eyes roamed down me to the floor, tracing the seven-point star and then to finally rest on the old book on the floor next to me. His eyes were fixed on me as I felt a spark of fear ignite inside my soul. I was sure he would have killed me right then and there if he wasn’t restrained by the water.

  His intelligence was obvious as he looked Tyrius and me over, fingers curling into fists at his side. “Who are you?” he said, his voice laced with quiet thunder. “You’re not a witch. Your star is too sloppy to be made by one of the earth’s children. A stupid human female perhaps?”

  My fear evaporated, replaced by the increasing dislike of this Legolas the angel. “My name’s not important. But yours is. You’re the angel Vedriel. With a name like that, and with those clothes… I’m guessing you’re one of the original angels. The Order of the First? Am I right? Sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, but I’m tired of waiting around for the council to give me answers. I want my own answers. And I want them now. That’s why you’re here.”

  Vedriel’s stare was cold. “You’re an insubordinate Sensitive child. You’ve broken one of the most sacred laws by trapping me to this star. Do you even know what you’ve done? The council will hear about this, and you will be severely punished. Say the counter spell, and I will be lenient. Release me.”

  “Maybe he’s right,” whispered Tyrius, making me flinch. How had he gotten so close to me without me evening noticing? “Call it off, Rowyn. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me, like a baal-fillet.”

  As soon as Tyrius had said my name, I saw the angel’s eyes narrow. I could have sworn I saw a flash of alarm in his eyes before it disappeared.

  I straightened. This angel was really starting to piss me off. “Cut the scare tactics. It won’t work on me. I know you can’t harm me while your ass is in that water,” I lied. Truth was, I had no idea. “You might be able to scare other Sensitives with your Lord of the Rings elf outfit—but it’s not going to work on me. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the council, so cut the crap. I’m working freelance for them. That’s it. Which is why you’re here.”

  Vedriel eyed me suspiciously. “You’re a rogue?”

  “I prefer the term Hunter.” I kept my voice even. I needed answers, and I knew if I pissed him off too much, he wouldn’t answer my questions. “What Greater demon is killing the Unmarked?” I knew I’d hit a nerve by the shift of his face. It was subtle, but I saw it.

  Even with his skin glowing, his face darkened. “Release me,” he ordered, his voice rippling with darkness. The threat in his voice made my insides tighten. “Release me now or I will break free from this spell and I will rip the soul out of that soft body and end you.”

  Tyrius hissed and spat at the angel. His sharp white teeth glimmered with the light of the candles. I felt a warmth of gratitude. God, I loved that little demon.

  “Release me now,” threatened Vedriel as his eyes sparked with fury and his fists shook. “Release me!”

  I placed my hands on my hips. “Not until you answer my questions,” I said as he continued to seethe in anger. “You can’t break free, so you can stop with your idle threats,” I said, hoping I was right. I didn’t remember reading anything about that in the grimoire. “You’re bound to that star—to me. You’re mine, angel. Just answer my questions and you’ll be free to go.”

  “How do you know he won’t kill you the minute he’s free?” Tyrius’s voice had a little tremor in it.

  Vedriel sneered. “Your pet demon is right. I might not be able to kill you now… But once you release me. I shall return and snap your short life between my fingers. I’ll leave your body to be eaten by maggots.”

  Swell. A heavy weight pressed into my chest and I swallowed. “You can’t kill me,” I said, thankful that my voice was steady. “I’m an innocent. A mortal. I’m protected under the Angel Code. If you harm me in any way, it’s a ticket to Tartarus for you. I hear the angel prison is far worse than the Netherworld.” I saw Tyrius tense beside me.

  If things went sour, I hoped he was fast enough to run away and escape. This experiment was not going as I had planned.

  “Rules are meant to be bent and broken,” said the angel, a smile tugging on his lips. “I’ll tell the Legion that you tried to kill me. All I have to do is show them this room. The energy from the summoning will still be here, proof that you’d trapped me against my will, for this is not the usual way angels and Sensitives communicate.”

  “You angels barely communicate.” When I looked at him, his blue eyes were as ruthless as the churning of a winter storm.

  “I killed you in self-defense
,” argued Vedriel, looking smug. “Even angels are allowed to kill mortals to save their own lives.” He saw me look at Tyrius. “And then I’ll kill your disgusting little pet. No witnesses. All very neat and tidy.”

  “Rowyn,” moaned Tyrius. “I don’t like this. His milky skin is giving me the creeps.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, though my stomach gave a giant heave. “I’ve got this.” I met Vedriel’s glare with my own. I wouldn’t show this angel fear. If I showed fear, my plan wouldn’t work.

  “I’ve sent a letter to the council in the event of my death,” I said to the angel, hoping he would buy my bluff. “It’s in the hands of a trusted friend. If you kill me, they’ll know it’s you. It’s all written down. Every last detail.”

  Vedriel’s jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

  “I’ll ask you again,” I said, as I tried to calm my breathing. Tyrius was trembling next to me, and when I glanced at the continuous whirlpool at my feet, it was making me dizzy. “Give me the name of the Greater demon that’s killing the Unmarked.”

  “What gives you the impression that I would know such a thing?” Vedriel crossed his arms over his powerful chest, sending his long hair in glorious waves cascading down his back. I knew a few women who’d kill for hair like that.

  I raised my brows. “A gut feeling? I overheard someone from Hallow Hall say that the angel Vedriel—that’s you—wanted to be kept in the loop with the killings, when you angels never get involved with our business. I knew something was up.” I looked the angel square in the face. “Who’s killing the Unmarked? I know the Legion knows more than they let on. Come on. You’re angels. It’s your business to know what’s happening in the mortal world. And my gut feeling tells me you know something.”

  Vedriel’s pale face was tight with repressed anger. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, human. Greater demons? Human killings?” he shrugged. “What’s that got to do with me? With the Legion?”

  A low growl escaped from Tyrius. “He’s lying.”

  My heart leapt. Now we were getting somewhere.

  “I’m not lying,” Vedriel said tightly. “The Legion has more important things to do than worry about a handful of human deaths.”

  “Tyrius?” I questioned as I looked at the Siamese cat.

  “Yup, the bastard’s lying,” said the cat. “Angels… they’re not as holy as their human creations think.”

  Vedriel pulled out his sword and pointed it at Tyrius. “Your fur will make a nice hat, come this winter.”

  “Shut your pie hole, angel,” said Tyrius. “You can’t touch me while you’re in your toe bath.”

  Vedriel’s smile was crazed. “I will cut out that filthy tongue, puny demon,” he snarled.

  “Shut up, both of you!” I howled. I was so tired, and I was getting grumpy. I had had enough of this. I wanted my bed. My eyes closed as I gathered my strength.

  “Cut the bull, Vedriel,” I said as I opened my eyes and then gave him a thin-lipped smile. “There’s one thing most people don’t know about baals. They’re truth detectors. They can sense when someone’s lying. Tell me the truth.”

  The angel made an ugly noise deep in his throat. “And why, pray tell, would I do that?”

  I stiffened at his anger. The sharp tang of citrus filled my nose, and I knew the angel was struggling with his angelic powers against the bond. He was trying to get loose.

  “Well, for one thing,” I said cocking my hip, as I tried to calm my rising panic. “I can keep you here all day and night if I have to. You see, the last part of the incantation binds the summoned for as long as I want,” I lied. “Basically, I own you.” I smiled at his visible hatred at those words. “It’s up to you, Vedriel. You can give me what I want, and you can go home… or keep being a little bitch and you’ll be stuck here with me for a very long time. I freelance. I don’t have to go anywhere.”

  I waited as I kept my eyes on the angel, his white eyebrows going high. I could see his thoughts jumping and scrambling as he assessed the situation.

  Finally, he sheathed his sword, looking murderous. “You’re looking for the Greater demon Degamon.”

  “See, that wasn’t so hard,” expressed Tyrius, looking smug, and I knew the angel had spoken the truth.

  “And where can I find this Degamon?” My heart thumped with excitement. Finally, I was getting real answers. I knew my demons, but I’d never heard of one called Degamon.

  Vedriel’s piercing blue eyes met mine. “I don’t know.”

  I cut my gaze to Tyrius who nodded. “What can you tell me about it? Weaknesses? Strengths? How do I kill it?”

  Vedriel gave me a chilling look. I could see his angelic power surging through him. If he wasn’t bound, I knew he’d kill me the first chance he got.

  I knew I was pushing my luck with the angel, but I saw the resolve in his eyes as he started talking.

  “Just like all Greater demons,” said the angel. “Degamon has significant power and intelligence compared to the lesser demons. He’s clever, cunning, ruthless, and rules over an army of lesser demons.”

  “Like the igura?” I inquired, remembering my encounter with them. My insides clutched at the memory of what three had done to the Wentworths.

  “Yes,” said the angel. “Among others. Degamon cannot be killed, as you say, not by any means you possess.” He eyed my soul blade against my hip. “But it can be defeated. Its body will return to the Netherworld. While it may take it centuries to reform and rebuild its physical form, it eventually will. But it will remain weak for decades.”

  I pursed my lips. “I’m okay with that if it means it’ll stop killing us.” I watched the pale angel, my unease growing because there was something I still needed to know. He was here now, and I knew I’d never get the chance ever again. As soon as he was released, he’d find some spell to keep himself from ever being summoned again.

  “I’ve answered your questions,” said the angel, recognizing something on my face. “Release me.”

  “No,” I said, and I felt Tyrius jerk in surprise. “I have one last question,” I said, my voice trembling. Then I asked the question I’d been wanting to know for the past five years.

  I took a shallow breath. “What am I?”

  I saw the tension flow through Vedriel, almost visible it was so strong. He knew. Anxiety slammed through me. Nausea gripped my stomach, and I could feel my pulse pushing against my skin.

  The angel narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

  I took an angry breath. “Why am I Unmarked?” I demanded, feeling myself warm. My voice rose with my sudden irritation, my hands curling into fists. “Why don’t I have a sigil like the rest of the angel-born. Why am I different? What am I?” I repeated.

  Tyrius stood up next to me and the tension rose. “He knows,” breathed the tiny demon.

  Exuding confidence and satisfaction, the angel stared at me without blinking. Clearly the angel wouldn’t talk. I knew it was pointless. Somehow I knew he’d never answer that question.

  “You bastard!” I yelled. “What am I? What’s wrong with me?” I raised my fists, swinging them like an idiot, as though it would do any good. But when a smirk crossed the angel’s face, I lost it.

  “Tell me!” I screamed. I could feel the desperate, angry tears now. Too long I’d been going around the world feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere—not with angel-born—not with humans. Too long had I felt ashamed of who and what I was. And this bastard knew, yet he wouldn’t tell me.

  “Tell me!” I swung my fists. I was out of control. I leaned forward—

  “Rowyn!” screamed Tyrius, but it was too late.

  The weight of my body pulled me down, and I crashed onto the floor. I used my hands to stop my fall, but I still hit the wood floor like a dead log. My breath escaped me. I heard the smash of the bucket and felt the water splash under my legs. I propped myself up on my elbows and I looked up to find a satisfied smile on Vedriel’s face. I was so close to him I could reach out and
touch him.

  A wind rose, and my hair flapped in my face. Crap. Vedriel gave me a knowing smile. He knew the spell had been lifted. His pale skin flickered and then waved like water, and I could see right through him to the old cottage painting on the opposite wall.

  As Vedriel stood in the bucket, tiny sparkles of light peppered over his skin, making him look like he’d doused himself in glitter.

  The deep fury in his eyes scared the crap out of me. He raised his leg. Shit. He was going to kill me.

  With my heart lodged in my throat, I pitched myself backwards, scrambling on the slippery wet floor, but he reached out and snatched my wrist.

  I cried out as my wrist flamed. It hurt—as if the hounds of hell were chewing on it. I howled in pain, over and over again as his fingers burned into my flesh, and I gagged at the smell of burnt flesh. My flesh.

  “I’ll be seeing you again soon, Rowyn,” said Vedriel, still holding my wrist.

  Hot white light shone through the angel’s body. And with a final flicker, his solid form burst into a million brilliant little particles. The angel Vedriel was gone.

  “Well, that went better than expected,” said Tyrius, and I felt his cold nose nudging my cheek. “Rowyn?”

  My breath came in a ragged gasp. I opened my mouth to answer, but then my vision blurred, and the darkness took me.

  15

  The bus ride south to ALL SOULS REPAIR came with the usual snide remarks I’d gotten before when riding with Tyrius around my shoulders, his legs draped around my neck like a living scarf. But when he jumped to my lap, he got the most attention.

  Tyrius loved the attention, purring as loudly as he could whenever someone sat next to us and scratched his head or raked their fingers down his back. People were in awe of the beautiful cat, and I often wondered if he was using his demon magic to get more belly rubs. The little demon meowed loudly, demanding even more attention, true to the Siamese species. People laughed. Some even clapped and cheered, and I frowned, disgusted. Unlike my friend, I hated attention.