Dark Hunt

by Kim Richardson

  “You are the last super soldier,” Vedriel breathed. “And after I clean up this mess and kill all your friends, the mortal world will be right again. The council will never know what happened to their angel-born. Soon they will forget,” Vedriel raged. “What are you, compared to our kind, that you think you’re worthy of us? Mortals shouldn’t have powers. What are mortals but bags of meat, blood, and bones? You’re animals. You’re nothing but meat for the worms.”

  I wanted to spit in his face, curse him, but I was being ripped apart from the inside out. I thrashed as I tasted blood in my mouth.

  “Monkeys,” mocked the archangel. “The lot of you. All scheming, filthy monkeys.”

  I screamed as searing pain burned my bones, my insides turning to jelly.

  I wanted to die. Let me die.

  “Your mortal soul means nothing. I will enjoy it being ripped apart by the very creatures you were sworn to kill.”

  Jax yelled something. Yelled it closer. Through my blurred vision, I saw Jax crouching for something. Then he was on his feet, a soul blade in his hands. He hurled himself at Vedriel, swift as a shadow, the blade aimed at the archangel’s chest.

  Not bothering to look, Vedriel lifted a hand, and a wave of white celestial magic shot from his outstretched fingers. It slammed into Jax’s body. He was lifted and hurled backward, magic tearing through him like a bullet ripping a hole through paper. He hit the wall hard and slumped to the uneven stone ground, lying on his back.

  I shivered again, this time so violently that my body shifted back, a flash of light and pain.

  A blur of movement, and Danto was there, teeth out and claws, as he flung himself at the archangel. Vedriel sent the vampire a glare that would have sent ordinary men running. With a flick of his wrist, a beam of white light crashed into the vampire’s chest.

  Danto flew across the room. The clatter of broken plaster and wood echoed through the room as the vampire landed face-first on the dirt floor.

  Vedriel spun and met a blur of claws and teeth as the big panther attacked the archangel viciously from behind. And for a moment, I thought Tyrius the panther had managed to wrap his jaws around the bastard’s neck. But there was another flash of light, and Tyrius flew in the air and smashed hard onto the ground.

  My pain intensified as I saw Vedriel wave his sword at the wounded panther. No. Not Tyrius.

  Vedriel sneered at the baal demon. “You traitorous piece of filth,” he seethed. “You’re just as bad as these mortal beasts. Siding with a non-demon and half-breeds!”

  He raised his sword. Something inside me snapped.

  Get up. Rowyn. Get up!

  With the last drop of adrenaline, I staggered to my feet. Something black winked at me from the ground. A death blade, fallen from one of the vanquished demons. Deadly and poisonous to angel-born and angels alike. Angels couldn’t touch a death blade without poisoning themselves, without a death wish.

  Shadow and light.

  I wasn’t just angel-born. I was also demon-born.

  Making up my mind, I reached down and clasped the death blade by the hilt.

  Immediately I was struck at the sheer coolness of the blade. It hummed with power. The black vapors coiled up my hand, up my wrist to my arm like snakes. For a moment I stood there in complete astonishment as I held on to the death blade’s hilt, expecting it to melt my hand or at least burn. But the black metal felt cool against my palm.

  I stiffened, but reached within, feeling for some thread of power. I didn’t feel sick. I didn’t feel pain. The blade felt familiar and strangely comfortable in my grasp.

  And then I was moving again.

  Vedriel pointed the tip of his sword at Tyrius’s neck. “You’ll wish you’d never met that silly angel-born.” He raised his sword. “Demon filth—”

  And I stabbed him in the back.

  Vedriel cried out as I leaped back. The black hilt of the death blade sticking out of his back gleamed in the candlelight. Screaming, he dropped his sword and thrashed his arms behind his back, frantically trying to get at the blade. But he couldn’t reach it.

  The archangel swore, low and vicious. “What have you done!” For the first time, I saw real fear in Vedriel’s eyes, and I was glad of it. Hell, I almost smiled.

  And then, Jax, Tyrius and Danto threw themselves on the archangel. They attacked with swift, wicked force. And one by one, they claimed the archangel. The sounds of claws and blades tearing flesh echoed in the room. I caught a glimpse of Danto’s face, savage with rage and pain. And I saw Jax’s face. There was nothing merciful on his handsome face, no glimmer of feeling for the archangel on his knees.

  White light poured through large gaping holes in the archangel’s neck, hands, and face.

  “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, his features twisted, making him a lot less celestial and more mortal. “I’ll let you live. No one will ever find you. I swear it. Please!”

  My eyes found another death blade on the ground. I felt nothing as I closed the distance between me and the archangel. Tyrius shifted over, giving me space.

  Vedriel’s eyes widened at the death blade in my hand. “No! You can’t! I’m an archangel! You will pay for this! All of you! You will be hunted and killed for what you’ve done!”

  “I don’t care.” I plunged the death blade into his heart, pushing all the way in until the blade could go no further. With the last of my energy spent, I fell back and landed on my ass.

  Vedriel looked down, his mouth open in a silent scream. It was the final effort. The archangel’s body shivered, and black veins spread over his arms, his neck and then his face and into his eyes until they were as black as the eyes of a demon.

  Tyrius, Jax, and Danto all pulled back as the archangel started to convulse. Then more white light spilled from his mouth, eyes, and ears until he was completely covered in light.

  With a final scream, the archangel Vedriel burst into a million brilliant particles of dust.

  30

  The rising sun warmed my face and I closed my eyes, letting it burn away the demon smut on my face and clothes. I smelled like a week-old garbage bin left in the sun for far too long. We all did.

  The four of us sat on a stone pillar outside Devil’s Mouth. The land was still barren, looking like the remnants of a nuclear explosion, but somehow the sun just made everything seem a little less gloomy and a little brighter—a promise of a new things to come.

  The sun shone down from a brilliant sky onto the barren strip of the park, reflecting alongside the East River and making the waters sparkle like diamonds. My gaze traveled over the outstretch of land and debris, not surprised to see that all the demons were gone, having melted away into the Netherworld like mist burning away in the morning sun.

  I didn’t know how long we sat there in silence. Danto sat to my left with his arms crossed over his chest, his toes wiggling in the sunlight. The vampire hadn’t said much, and I suspected he was trying to keep it together after what had happened to Cindy. His grief was still very fresh, and although his gray eyes were dry, his pain was etched deeply on his face.

  Cindy. I felt a twang of guilt clenching my insides that we couldn’t save her.

  Tyrius was slouched on my lap, watching Danto’s toes with the intensity of a cat watching a bird.

  “What do you think happened to Degamon?” asked Jax, sitting next to me on my right, his long legs sprawled out before him. The sun cast a golden glow over his hair and skin, making him look very much like his angel ancestors.

  I shrugged, looking away from those lips. “My guess is that without Vedriel—without its binding contract, the Greater demon had no business staying. It left after we...”

  “Killed the archangel,” said Jax, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

  Killed the archangel, I repeated. Funny, I didn’t feel any regret or remorse about killing Vedriel. I was glad of it.

  My eyes moved to my right wrist, the skin smooth with my olive complexion. There was no sign of the archangel curse,
no more bruises or blisters. The Seal of Adam had disappeared the moment the archangel had died. And I felt fantastic.

  “Degamon doesn’t care about me anymore,” I said. “With its summoner dead,” I swallowed, “the contract is nulled. It will never hunt me again.” I met his eyes. “But it has your name, Jax.” It was tainted with demon smut, and I was worried about him.

  Jax sighed and pulled his gaze away from me. “I know. Let’s hope it doesn’t call me up on some nighttime favors just yet,” he laughed. “I’m still a little sore. Don’t know how well I’d perform.”

  I scowled. He wasn’t taking this seriously. I didn’t think Jax understood the severity of a demon possessing one’s name. But that conversation would have to wait for another time.

  It was hard not to think of the kiss we’d shared—the one he stole—with him so close to me. I leaned a little closer to his musky scent. I suddenly became very aware of his thigh pressing up against mine, and I didn’t move an inch. I wasn’t sure what the kiss meant, now that we’d made it out alive.

  But it had been nice, very nice.

  Jax kept his bad-boy smile in place, seemingly oblivious to my worry. “Are you going to stay this time, or are you going to leave again?” he said, changing the subject and staring at me through his long eyelashes.

  My face warmed and it wasn’t due to the sun. “I’m staying,” I answered, knowing it was the truth, and I felt Tyrius’s eyes on me. “My grandmother needs me. She’s all alone and she’s the only family I have left.” I sighed. “I have a feeling the Legion’s not finished with me either. I’m the only Unmarked left.”

  “That we know of,” mewed Tyrius. “There could be more, and there could be more of a different kind. Who knows what the Legion’s been brewing all these years.”

  I knew he was right. There were probably more of Horizon’s soldiers but different from me. Something that we hadn’t seen before. Something worse.

  “We killed an angel,” I muttered, stroking Tyrius’s head, suddenly a little more nervous. The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, like I still couldn’t believe it.

  “An archangel,” corrected the cat, purring loudly.

  “We killed an archangel.”

  Tyrius crossed his front paws. “Yes, but he was a very bad one.”

  I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. The Legion won’t see it that way. To them, we just murdered one of their sacred archangels. There’ll be hell to pay.”

  “With Vedriel’s death,” said Tyrius, “his allies will come looking for us. They’ll try to kill us… because of what we’ve done. All of us. Vedriel was just the beginning.”

  “Let them come,” I said, my pulse pounding. Tyrius leapt from my lap as I stood up. “I’ll be ready for them.” I was angry, furious at what the Legion had done to me and to the others.

  “Me too.” Jax swung his shotgun on his shoulder, his eyes alight with determination. “I’m with you on this.”

  “You can count me in as well,” said the vampire, surprising me. He stood up. The traces of pain were gone, and all I saw was the vamp’s elegant grace marred by retaliation. His eyes fixed to me with a shocking intensity, and I swore I saw a flicker of admiration in there.

  Tyrius purred. “Same here. We do this together. The four of us. Like it or not, we’re a team now.”

  A smile crept to my face. The thing was, I didn’t vanquish the archangel alone. I had done it with the help of three unlikely allies—a broken vampire, a baal demon and an angel-born warrior … and me. Horizon’s hybrid super soldier.

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m in the mood for drink. There’s a pint of beer somewhere with my name on it. Hell, make that three. I don’t even care if it’s in Mystic Quarter. Who’s with me?”

  We all laughed as we began the long walk back to Jax’s car. Together. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

  I had always known there was something inside me… it had always been there… and now it was awakened.

  I was lost for a long time, not knowing what or who I was—but now, I know what I am.

  I am shadow and light.

  Slipping a soul blade into my weapons belt around my right hip, I reached out for the death blade I used to stab Vedriel and slid it around my left.

  Horizon’s armies will come after me.

  And I say, let them come.

  DARK BOUND

  1

  NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE.

  Damn. I held the letter in trembling fingers. It didn’t matter how many times I’d read the stupid notice. It always said the same thing; the bank was threatening to take my grandmother’s house.

  My gut clenched, and a sick feeling weaved its way into my being. I sat in my usual spot at my grandmother’s antique wooden table. Suddenly cold, I stared out the kitchen window to the falling rain, forcing myself to breathe. The cool autumn wind drafted through the open window and I clenched the paper so I wouldn’t hyperventilate.

  This can’t be happening.

  “Rowyn, put the notice down before you give yourself a heart attack,” commented Father Thomas sitting across from me, his beautiful voice, rich in tones and resonant. “The words won’t change no matter how many times you read them.”

  I let the notice fall on the table and glanced at the priest. He’d been on one of his regular visits to my grandmother’s when I popped in this morning to check on her.

  Father Thomas was one of Thornville’s local priests, but also a modern-day Templar Knight. They called themselves Knights of Heaven, and they were a team specially appointed by the church to investigate all the “unusual crimes” that happened in the city and the surrounding areas, specifically New York City. They waged a secret war against the church’s enemies—demons, half-breeds, ghosts, and other supernatural baddies that posed a threat to the church.

  He wore his usual dark ensemble of black slacks and a black shirt, the white square of his clerical collar stark against the deep tones. He was a few inches taller than me with a drool-worthy, athletic physique gained from hours at the gym and somewhere in his early thirties. His strong, handsome features complemented his dark, intelligent eyes, and his olive complexion framed by his raven hair spoke of his obvious Spanish ancestry.

  Tall, dark and handsome. Yup. El padre had the full package. I wasn’t even sure I was allowed to say or even think a priest was hot. Would God strike me down and send me to the Netherworld for thinking Father Thomas was a tad pretty?

  Father Thomas is hot.

  Father Thomas is hot.

  Father Thomas is hot—yup, still here. I guess it is allowed.

  “Father Thomas is right,” said Tyrius, sitting on the table, and I pulled my eyes from the priest. “We’ve all memorized what it says. Now we need to figure out what we’re going to do about it.”

  The chic Siamese cat looked regal with his carefully refined features, elegant black mask, and black-gloved paws. The concern in his voice mirrored my own. Tyrius loved my grandmother deeply, and this notice had us both on edge.

  I glanced at my grandmother, standing with her back to the oven. The sign above her kitchen cabinets read LIFE’S TOO SHORT. LICK THE BOWL.

  She wore a calf-length sweater dress with her white hair tied loosely in a long braid. Her face was paler than usual, and her eyes were a bit sunken, lacking their usual mischievous glint. The age lines in her face that I once found so comforting were deeper, making her appear tired and older. The sadness that clouded her eyes brought my heart into my throat.

  “Can the bank really do that?” asked Tyrius, his deep blue eyes flashing. “Can they really take her house?”

  “Yes.” Father Thomas shifted in his chair. “The loan agreement was signed with the client’s consent for the bank to take the necessary action should the client default on payments.” I heard the frustration in his voice. “And that means they have every right to repossess the house if the payments stop.”

  “When does the bank take possession?” asked Tyr
ius, his voice carrying a new concern.

  “If we don’t cough up twenty grand,” I said, my fingers drumming on the table, “in seven days from today.”

  A sullen silence descended, and I leaned over with my elbows on the table, letting my head fall in my hands. I’d been so wound up in my own affairs with the archangel’s death, the deaths of the Unmarked, and my confusing feelings about Jax—I’d never even noticed the strain happening at my grandmother’s. I was a fool. A selfish fool.

  My thoughts were rambling now, panic making it hard to breathe. I needed to focus. I needed to figure this out.

  I needed twenty freaking thousand dollars.

  Since I hadn’t actually vanquished the Greater demon Degamon, I wasn’t entitled to the full ten thousand the council had originally offered. But having solved the murders, the council allowed me to keep the five thousand they’d given me up front. Jax had explained Degamon’s involvement to the council, in a lie that we had agreed upon. He told them Degamon was hunting the Unmarked because their souls were more potent and held more life-force than regular mortals or angel-born.

  I don’t know if the council bought our fabricated story, but the killings stopped, and so did the council’s attention on me. Good. That’s how I wanted to be—left alone.

  Most of that five thousand had gone toward three months’ rent, overdue bills and a desperately needed new wardrobe. I’d put the remaining five hundred dollars in a savings account, hoping to save up for a car. I hated having to take the bus and subway to get around. I was a Hunter. Taking the bus was bad for my image.

  Screw my image. I had five hundred dollars to put towards my grandmother’s debt. Now I had to figure out a way to get nineteen and a half thousand in less than seven days. Damn. How the hell was I going to pull that off?

  “I say we rob a bank,” said Tyrius, and to my surprise Father Thomas laughed. “What?” said the cat. “You think I’m kidding? Do you know how easy it would be for me to hack into the bank and transfer some cash to Cecil’s account?”