“Help! She’s trying to kill me!” wailed the demon, tears now spilling down its face and adding to the dramatic effect.
“Damn you, demon.” I looked back over my shoulder and a mixture of surprise and relief coursed through me when I noticed the man was gone. “Ha. It didn’t work. Better luck next time.”
The shifter lost its smile and threw itself at me in a fit of rage. It moved faster than I’d thought possible, and before I could raise my blade, it crashed into me. The two of us tumbled to the ground. My blade was still grasped in my hand as we rolled over, each trying to gain the advantage.
“Not going back! Never!”
The shifter began biting me with its human teeth. Bile rose in the back of my throat and I was surprised at the pain I felt. With its superhuman strength, it tried to muscle me onto my stomach, and I winced at the fetid breath on my face. I struggled to get an opening with my blade, but the demon lashed out and scratched at my face and eyes. It was like wrestling a crazed cat, the demon hissing and spitting as it bit and scratched at me in a fit of demented panic.
This demon was really starting to piss me off. Anger spiked in me. With a surge of strength, I heaved the demon back and staggered to my feet.
“It ends now.” Raising my soul blade to the creature’s chest, I moved forward, angling my weapon for the killing strike—
Bone popped. Muscles tore. An arrowhead perforated the demon’s chest. A look of surprise warped its features and I stopped cold at the sight of blood I hadn’t put there.
“Not going back,” said the demon as it cupped the arrowhead with its hands. “Not going—”
The rest of its words died at the impact of another arrowhead bursting through its mouth from the back of its skull. The demon teetered on the spot, its black eyes fixed on me, and then exploded.
Not ash that could easily be wiped off with a brush of a hand like the rest of the demons, but a spill of wet, putrid bits of skin and yellow liquid.
I gagged as the slop hit me in the face, neck, and chest, and I shivered as I tasted carrion. I was covered in its wasted slime, its demon goo. I spat and kept spitting until I thought I’d gotten all of it out, hoped I’d gotten it all out. That was truly disgusting. I almost threw up when I saw the slime on my jacket steaming in the cool air.
Just as I heard the shifting of feet, someone stepped out of the shadows, a bow in his hand. No. Not a someone. A faerie.
3
I hissed under my breath. Damn. I never felt him coming. I was either losing my touch or the shifter guts were affecting my demon senses. Or maybe I was just having a really bad night.
Every time I spotted a faerie, images of Tyrius skewered on a stick being barbecued flicked in my mind’s eye, and I hated them even more. I couldn’t help it. Any creature that ate cat or dog was my enemy. Period.
I’d always felt something viler and more sinister whenever I was in the presence of a faerie, a darkness I couldn’t explain. There was a wild, demonic energy about them, unlike any other half-breed, and it always made my pulse quicken and my creep-o-meter shoot sky high.
This one was tall, very tall, making my five-foot-nine-inch frame look petite next to the gangly bastard. Faeries and vampires were distant cousins in the half-breed world, having a similar demon heritage, but where vampires were gifted with good looks, charm, and sensual grace, faeries were cold and gaunt-looking, like starved heroin addicts.
The male faerie attached his bow to the quiver strapped behind his back. His long legs moved with a business-like purpose as he deliberately stalked toward me, his steps as silent as a cat. How ironic. I’d always hated that about faeries, the way they could sneak up on people without being heard.
The smell of candy canes and rotten eggs clogged up my nose. Perhaps thirty years old, his blond hair was tied back from his face, making his cheek bones stand out sharply against his pale skin and revealing his pointed ears. He wore a long, black coat with matching shirt and pants and carried two curved daggers sheathed along his baldric, each long and deadly like a beast’s claw. A series of tattoos peeked out from the collar of his shirt, up and around his neck—faerie symbols. His eyes were deep brown and dangerous, surprisingly dark for a faerie with such pale skin and fair hair. He carried his weight with a pompous sort of dignity.
I hated him on the spot.
His gaze traveled over me to the death blade at my hip. I would have smiled at the arch in his brows, but I was too pissed off. When his eyes met mine, he gave me a look like I should be thanking him. Hell no.
I straightened my shoulders, gripped my soul blade, and pushed myself onto the tips of my toes, trying to look taller. “You just stole my mark and you ruined perfectly good clothes. Who’s going to pay for that? You?”
“I did you a favor, Hunter,” the faerie intoned, its voice scratchy and annoyingly high pitched for a male. “Looks like the shifter would have finished you off if I hadn’t intervened. I saved you.”
Peeved, I almost snarled. “You had no business intervening, faerie.” His eyes narrowed at my tone. “As I recall, faeries don’t do favors for non-faeries. And they don’t mix with Hunter business either.”
I threw out my senses, scanning for any familiar, cold, demonic energies. My skin pricked at the shift in the air, like tiny electrical currents. More faeries. I was willing to bet there were four or five more hiding in the alley, no doubt pointing their arrows at me. They always moved in packs, like werewolves. Did I mention how much I hated them?
Cold rain fell around me, light but steady, and my pulse quickened. “Quit staring at me like you’re about to ask for my number, ‘cause that’s never going to happen.” I gritted my teeth. “What do you want?” The faerie’s dark eyes were starting to creep me out. I just wanted him gone so I could go home and shower before the demon goo penetrated my skin like a cream. I’d never get the smell out then.
The faerie’s pompous expression never changed. “I’m here on behalf of Queen Isobel. She requests an audience with you, Rowyn Sinclair.”
“Ha-ha.” I laughed, but inside I flinched. I didn’t like this faerie knowing my name. I shifted my weight, my eyes never leaving his. Now this was getting interesting. “What does the queen of the Dark Court want with me?”
I’d never met or seen the faerie queen of the Dark Court, but I’d heard the rumors, just like everyone else. She had acquired her throne by removing the dark faerie king and taking his place. She ate him, or so the story went. Yikes.
The queen of the Dark Court’s story was legend and nightmare among our kind. She was the most lethal faerie on this side of the northern continent. She was powerful and held more magic than most faeries, which she used to slaughter humans and any half-breed who dared defend them.
I knew she had set up her lair in Mystic Quarter with a legion of vicious faeries by her side. Blondie here must be one of them. I’d also heard that she liked to keep human men as her sexual slaves, their minds too weak and corrupt to know the difference between glamour and the real world.
But the Gray Council had put a stop to her slaughtering humans five hundred years ago. After centuries of conflict, a truce was forged between the half-breeds and the angel-born, and the Gray Council was created. It consisted of one member from each half-breed court—vampires, faeries, werewolves and witches—and it also includes the leaders of the angel-born.
All half-breeds were allowed to live in the mortal world and govern themselves if they followed one strict rule—never harm a human. They forged their own councils and their own courts. But a truce was a fragile thing, some longed for the return of the old ways, the dark days before the angels interfered and created the angel-born to keep the peace and watch over the mortal world.
And when any of these half-breeds stepped out of line, it was my job to hunt them.
“The queen requires your services, Hunter,” said the faerie, his face twitching into something between a smile and a grimace.
I raised my brows. “Really? A job? Bull.
”
The faerie snickered. “I wouldn’t be here wasting my time talking to a Hunter otherwise,” he said belligerently. “Trust me. I’d rather be anywhere else but here right now.” His voice was dripping with indignation at having to deal with little moi.
My pulse quickened. I didn’t like to be cornered and surprised by half-breeds, even less by faeries. Worse, I smelled like a week-old garbage bin left in the hot sun.
If he’d wanted to kill me, he and his goons would have tried putting a few arrows in my chest already. Maybe he really was here on the queen’s business. Curious, I gave him another once-over. He looked like he despised me about as much as I despised him, but I wanted to know why the queen of the faeries had sought me out.
“What kind of job?” I asked, shoving my jacket back so that my weapons were in full view, just in case he wanted to admire them again.
The male faerie kept quiet and I could tell by his stern reserve that he wouldn’t tell me. He just stood there, eyeing me like I might be tasty to eat. Swell.
“Listen,” I said, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes. “If it’s not a paying job, I’m not interested. As you can see—” I lifted my arms in a show of demon guts, “—I’m quite busy at the moment. I don’t do freebies. You can tell your faerie lady to forget it—”
“Isobel is queen of this land.” The male faerie did nothing to hide the ire in his voice, pulling my stomach tight. “She is the Dark Queen of New York,” he breathed, his eyes wide with some admiration and possibly a little fear.
“Right, well, she’s not my queen,” I said, loudly enough for the other faeries to hear. “What does she want?” I was beginning to regret not accepting Tyrius’s offer for backup. I never worked with a partner, apart for that one job with Jax, but I was wondering if I should start to seriously rethink that. His alter ego black panther might have been handy right now.
The faerie watched me for a moment. “Perhaps one day she will be your queen, and then you will show some respect.”
I scowled, not liking where this conversation was going. “Listen here, you skinny-ass faerie. I don’t have time for this. Either you tell me what she wants… or get the hell out of my way.”
A flicker of anger set the faerie’s eyebrows high. “I’d kill you right now, if my queen hadn’t commanded me not to harm you. Pity. I could have added Hunter to my list of kills.”
My mouth fell open. Torn between anger and shock, my face went cold. “You know,” I said as I felt a piece of the shifter’s remains slip down my forehead and wiped them away with my hand. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. I’m booked for the month. Sorry, but you’ll have to tell Her Highness no.” There was no way I was going to do a job for any faerie. I didn’t care if she was a queen or a princess. That meant diddlysquat to me.
“The queen is prepared to offer you twenty thousand dollars.” The faerie wrinkled his face as if carefully considering what I would say.
Twenty thousand? My heart leapt as I struggled to keep my face blank. “Sounds like something serious. And you still won’t tell me what it is?” That was more than a whole year’s pay, even as a freelancer.
A chill hit my guts. Typically with hunting, the higher a mark was priced, the more dangerous it was. It could be anything from a Greater demon to a mass of lesser demons. But with that kind of cash, my grandmother could keep her home.
My heart pounded. “Why me? Why not have—” I waved my bladed hand, “your own kind handle the queen’s affairs? Why seek me out?”
“The queen requires someone with your… unique skills,” replied the faerie, sounding both bored and irritated at the same time. His eyes were full of an amused disbelief as he took in my casual jeans and leather jacket. It was obvious he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of his queen requesting me for a job. Maybe he was jealous. Maybe that was just his normal face. And it made me all tingly inside.
Still, I’d never heard of any faerie—queen or common faerie—ask for help. Perhaps this was a trap and they wanted to lure me in with the promise of so much cash… then kill me… then eat me.
The faerie must have read my mind. His face pulled into a smile and my blood turned cold. His yellow teeth were filed down into sharp points, like the teeth of a fish.
Damn, maybe he wanted to eat me.
The faerie shifted and reached inside his jacket. I tensed, lowering myself in a crouch, only to find the half-breed flipping me a coin. A gold coin.
I caught it easily and flipped it over. Yup. It was gold. I rubbed my thumb over the portrait of a man’s face with a large hawk-like nose. The coin was from Spain. I couldn’t read the inscription around the edges, but I could make out the year 1822 engraved on the bottom. Who pays anything in gold these days? The stinky, filthy rich, that’s who.
“Please accept this gift as a token of my queen’s good faith.” The faerie’s dark eyes searched my face.
With my fingers, I moved the coin around in my hand. Damn, gold felt good. “I don’t even know what the job is. How can I say yes to something I don’t know?”
The faerie raised a brow, seemingly knowing I was going to say that. “It’s not my place to say. The details will be explained to you at the meeting. Do you accept an audience with the queen or not? A simple yes or no will do.” The faerie sighed, visibly biting back his annoyance.
I felt marginally better knowing that I was annoying him. Clasping the gold coin in my hand, I answered, “Fine,” surprising myself as I pocketed the gold coin before faerie-boy asked for it back. Tyrius was going to have a field day when I told him about this encounter—and possibly cough up a furball at what I had just agreed to do. Just the thought of his tantrum had the corners of my lips twitching.
“I’ll meet your queen,” I told the faerie. “But I’m not making any promises. I want to hear what she has to offer first, before I make my final decision. I’ll meet her… but it doesn’t mean I’m taking the job. Got it?”
A flicker of surprise moved over the faerie’s tight features. “Yes. That’s fine.”
“Okay then,” I said, tension tightening my shoulders. “When and where?”
The faerie met my gaze, his expression blank. “The queen wishes to see you at midnight tomorrow night at Sylph Tower.” He eyed me, his eyes suddenly bright with amusement. “Do you need directions?”
“I think I can manage,” I said, bristling. Sylph Tower was in Mystic Quarter.
A lump of fear settled heavily in my belly as a wicked, contriving smile spread over the faerie’s chiseled face. “Don’t be late,” he said. “My queen won’t tolerate tardiness.” And with that, the faerie spun on his heels and bounded back up the street.
I opened my mouth to tell him to shove his attitude up his ass, but my breath caught at the sudden shift in the air.
My skin erupted in gooseflesh as my heart thumped against my ribcage. From the shadows of the alley came a low hissing sound, and I felt another, stronger slither of vile and cold demon energy. Four Dark Court faeries appeared in the alley as though formed from the shadows. They all came together to form a line behind the blond faerie. Darkness cloaked their faces, but they were all tall and gangly like him and wearing similar black clothes with matching arrow-filled quivers—the very arrows that had been pointed at me this whole time.
I stood in silence watching the faeries disappear into the night until their foul scent had vanished and all that was left was the eye-watering stink of shifter demon guts on me.
I slipped my hand back into my pocket and pulled out the gold coin. What was this job? And why did the faerie queen of the Dark Court wish to hire me?
Unease tightened my chest as I rubbed my thumb over the Spaniard’s face. Nothing good would come from accepting a job from a faerie. And things could always get worse.
What did I get myself into?
Don’t miss the thrilling continuation of the Shadow and Light series, Dark Bound.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear reader,
&nbs
p; Thank you for reading Dark Hunt. If you enjoyed this book, please consider posting a short review. Your feedback is important to me and will help other readers decide whether to read the book too.
Again, thank you for coming on this ride with me, and I hope we’ll take many more together. Happy reading!
All the best,
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KIM RICHARDSON is the award-winning author of the bestselling SOUL GUARDIANS series. She lives in the eastern part of Canada with her husband, two dogs and a very old cat. She is the author of the SOUL GUARDIANS series, the MYSTICS series, and the DIVIDED REALMS series. Kim's books are available in print editions, and translations are available in over seven languages.
To learn more about the author, please visit:
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www.kimrichardsonbooks.com
Dark Hunt Page 24