Hunting Darkness (City of Darkness Book 1)

by Maggie Alabaster

  Hunting Darkness

  City of Darkness book 1

  Maggie Alabaster

  Copyright © 2020 by Maggie Alabaster

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Ryn Katryn digital art.

  Edited by Lily Luchesi

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Maggie Alabaster

  To Krystal Walker, for the coffee house name and friendship.

  To Mikey for the restaurant name and being a spectacular bastard.

  And special dedication to Aiki- writer, fighter, beta reader and all around badass. I'm honoured to call you friend.

  1

  I ducked as the demon swung his sword at my head.

  The blade soared over me, close enough to slice off a hair or two.

  From the sheath strapped to my back, I pulled out my own sword and slashed at his midsection. Where the steel should have connected with flesh and muscle, it thudded against a plate of bone hidden by his clothes.

  Shit.

  The impact jarred my arm up to my shoulder. I winced

  The demon grinned, teeth visible behind a ragged beard. "That the best you've got?"

  He spoke with an English accent, Londoner unless I missed my guess. From his tattered clothing, he looked as if he'd slept rough for a few decades. In close quarters like these, he smelled like it too.

  "I haven't even started." I took a few steps back to take stock. The presence of bone in his midsection suggested some kind of exoskeleton. Tough, but not invulnerable. He was unlikely to have magic, that was good news.

  "What are you?" I asked easily, my head cocked. "Scorpion? Turtle?" I was taunting him, but many demons had short tempers. Anger him and he'd be more likely to make a mistake.

  He laughed instead. "I think you mean tortoise. Turtles are the water ones. Also they have a shell on their back, not their front."

  "Thank you, David Attenborough," I muttered.

  "Sir David to you." His smile widened. "For your information—before I kill you—I'm more like an ant."

  "Ah." I nodded slowly. "So I should look for a queen then?"

  His smile faltered.

  So I've found a raw nerve have I?

  "What's wrong," I pressed, "did someone fumigate?"

  He growled and leapt toward me, but I was ready. I jumped aside and turned my upper body. Using my sword like a poker, I jabbed it into his neck, hoping for a gap in the bone. The blade ground against another plate and slid free.

  He let out a gurgle of annoyance and shook his head. Greasy hair flew back and forth. He bared his teeth. They shimmered, then turned into mandibles: jagged, razor-like pincers that looked sharp enough to tear through flesh.

  He snapped.

  "Can't talk like that huh?" I teased. "What a shame, I was enjoying our repartee."

  The rest of the demon started to change as well. His already torn clothing ripped further and fell away.

  Although his appearance wasn't exactly that of a giant ant, there was a similarity, including the stinger in his tail. Rather than six legs, he had only two and a pair of muscular arms. In place of hair, he bore a pair of antennae. His eyes were rounded pools of black.

  If I recalled my high school biology right, he'd have dozens of lenses in his eyes, all working together.

  "You're uglier like that," I remarked. "Shame I forgot to bring bug spray." Regular pesticides wouldn't work on a demon anyway, even one like this.

  He swung his tail at me. The smooth, sudden motion came within half a fingertip of slashing across my leg. I brought my sword down in an arc and across the base of his tail. This time, it slid through with a sound like cracking ice and severed the stinger.

  He let out a howl of rage and slashed his sword at me. Back and forth, he swept with no thought for technique or restraint.

  Good, get angry.

  I parried several potential blows and danced aside to avoid the rest. He was starting to tire, or he was playing with me. Assuming the latter, but hoping for the former, I took my time, waited for just the right moment.

  Slash. Jump. Slash. Parry.

  Time stood still.

  My movements and responses became slower. I was tiring too.

  Pain seared my arm as the point of his sword connected with the inside of my elbow. A trickle of warm blood wound down my arm.

  I faltered slightly. The wound was nothing more than a nick, but it rattled my certainty I'd walk away from this fight alive.

  One day, I wouldn't.

  I shoved the thought aside and went on the attack. I kept my sword low. He responded by mirroring my actions.

  His breath rasped.

  Mine was ragged.

  Our gazes locked. Streetlight reflected off his multifaceted eyes, but didn't obscure his confidence.

  Anger flared inside me. I tempered it.

  I needed to be calm, clear headed.

  I feinted with a low jab, which he blocked. He let out a hiss of laughter. It died as I brought my blade up to my shoulder and swung it toward his neck. He tried to duck but I was faster.

  With a grunt, I removed his head from his shoulders.

  Again, time slowed.

  His head went one way, his body another. His face shifted back to that of a human, a look of horrified shock on his features. His body remained that of an ant-demon for several seconds after it thudded onto the damp street.

  I could have pulled out my phone and taken pictures for social media, if I bothered with things like that.

  I didn't.

  Most people wouldn't believe it anyway. That was for the best. If they knew about guys like him, they'd be terrified.

  Finally, the body shifted back into human form, filthy and naked, exoskeleton barely visible under a layer of body hair.

  "Yuck." I cleaned my sword and slid it back in its sheath. "If this was a TV show, you'd turn into dust."

  I had been hunting demons—just the bad ones—for long enough to know that wasn't what happened. Rather, I'd have to sort out a clean up crew before the sun rose. In this part of Sydney, a headless corpse wouldn't go unnoticed for long.

  Up and down the street, the tarmac shone, wet from rainfall an hour or so ago. Several streetlights were out, but enough light remained for me to see I was alone.

  Unease settled on me. I tried to shake it off, but it lingered, then grew. Demons often operated in clans. Nothing suggested this one was any different.

  Except, of course, that actual ants lived in nests of hundreds.

  I shuddered.

  A whisper of sound, barely audible over the hum of cars on adjacent roads, might be a cat or a stray dog. Instinct told me otherwise. That instinct kept me alive for a quarter of a ce
ntury, so I wasn't going to ignore it now. I couldn't pull a sword without drawing attention to myself, but I surreptitiously slid out a knife I kept at my hip.

  Fuck, I should have kept my sword out until I was sure I was alone. I should be past making rookie mistakes like that.

  I kept my posture loose and relaxed, as I'd been trained to do. Appearing tense would warn whoever—or whatever—it was that I was aware of them.

  Another sound, just to my right. Casual and slow, I scanned the street. My eyes searched, head only turned slightly as I moved away from the corpse.

  There, the sound came again. It was following me. I took a few more steps, then twirled around.

  A shape drew back into the shadows, leaving only two red pinpricks of light, both focused on me. They went black and flared again.

  The demon blinked.

  "Crap." Glowing eyes often meant bad news.

  Judging by the height, this was no child either. Rather, it stood half a metre taller than me.

  "I know what you are." The voice was a soft whisper, a feminine contralto, deep, almost hypnotic.

  "Well whoopie-doo." My voice sounded loud in comparison. "Are you going to enlighten me? It would save us both some time."

  The demon moved out of the shadows, but the darkness followed. Even the glow from the streetlights didn't penetrate.

  Fuck, a shade.

  These guys were notoriously nasty and hard to kill. They were nothing like the ant-demon, who was little more than a street thug. Shades were more like pieces of night, and smart to boot. The fact I'd heard it at all suggested one thing; it had wanted me to know it was there.

  "Demon Hunter," the shade hissed.

  "Give the shade a gold star," I replied lightly. "You can call me Juliet. What do you want?" I put my knife away. It would be of no use here.

  "What do any of us want?" the shade asked. "Survival, procreation, power."

  "No offence, but you've come to the wrong person," I said. "I have no desire to help you with any of those things." Even if I was able to. As far as I could tell, shades had no bodies anyway.

  "What you want does not matter."

  "On the contrary. It matters very much to me."

  "Fascinating," the shade continued, "I could end your life before your heart beat again, but you show no sign of fear."

  "You said it yourself, I'm a Demon Hunter. I've killed enough of your kind not to be scared of them any longer. For me it's like…stepping on ants." I gestured back toward the corpse.

  "He is of no consequence," the shade said dismissively, "but his kind, too, will rise up and feast on the bodies of humankind. If you're lucky, you'll already be dead."

  I feigned a yawn. "If I had fifty cents for every time I'd heard that crap spouted off, I could retire."

  The shade went on as if they hadn't heard. "The order of things, it speaks, and it says the time for human extinction is upon us."

  "Spare me." I curled and uncurled my fingers. "I know humans aren't perfect, but at least we don't feast on each other. Mostly."

  "The greater species rises above the lesser to conquer the Earth," the shade said, as if reciting some sort of prophecy.

  The declaration drew a snort from me before I could stop it. "That's why humans outnumber demons and other paranormals, and we'll—"

  "Are you certain of that?" the shade asked.

  I hesitated, then shrugged. "Either way, I'm not buying your crap."

  "I came to you with a warning." The shade moved back toward the shadows. "For yourself and all the other Demon Hunters."

  "I'm touched. Maybe text me next time." My curiosity was piqued, however, so I added, "Well, what is it? Come on, I haven't got all night."

  "The warning is this." The shade paused. "Do not stand in our way. We will conquer the night, then the light of day."

  "Oh yeah? How will you do that?" Did shades smoke weed? This one sounded as though it had.

  "By taking away the one thing which keeps humans safe. Fear."

  The words hung in the air while I frowned. "Shouldn't you be doing the opposite? Isn't the point of demons that you instil fear in people? Wait, is this some weird reverse psychology shit? If so, I think you need to rethink it. As plans go, it kinda sucks. Actually never mind, it'll make it easier to beat."

  "You cannot beat us," the shade said. "Humans will destroy themselves faster than you can possibly imagine." Then, as if feeling magnanimous , the shade added, "I will not kill you."

  "Am I supposed to say thank you for that?"

  "No. It is your kind who will suffer the most. You will watch the downfall of humankind and be powerless to stop it. The world will tear apart, and we will bind it back together and feast on your bones."

  "Mmm, well that's something to look forward—" I lowered my arms in surprise.

  The glowing red eyes were gone. The streetlight now penetrated the corner which had previously been shrouded in darkness. The shade was probably full of crap, but the uneasy sensation remained. Whatever they were up to, this was going to get ugly.

  I took a deep breath laced with city pollution, and hurried down the road toward my motorbike. I wanted to be away from here before the sun rose.

  2

  "Some demons are full of shit," I declared. I unbuckled my sheath and tossed it lightly onto the couch.

  "Have you just noticed that?" Malachai Lewis looked up from his cup of coffee and raised a pair of shaggy eyebrows at me.

  I inhaled the smell of coffee. Not the instant stuff, but brew made from beans and percolated into liquid perfection. Or so Malachai claimed.

  I wasn't so fussy. I stalked over to the compound's kitchen, flicked the switch to boil the electric kettle and grabbed a jar of Nescafé.

  "No, I've suspected it for a long time now. Where are the others?" The kettle bubbled for a minute or two, then whistled and clicked off. I grabbed a clean mug and some sugar from the shelf above the sink and made myself a cup of instant the way I liked it, strong and sweet.

  "Freya and Damien have taken out a cleanup crew. Seamus is around somewhere, although I'm surprised he's not following you around with those puppy dog eyes of his."

  "Haha," I retorted, before flopping into a seat opposite him. "He's like…my brother."

  Seamus was nice enough, but he would have to get over his infatuation. He was shaping up to be a good Demon Hunter, or I would have suggested he move to a different team.

  Malachai shrugged. "So what's this about demons being full of shit?" He leaned back in his chair, intense blue eyes regarding me steadily.

  I hesitated. "Everyone should be here for this." Although, was I really thinking there was anything to this? Demons' goals in life included scaring people, or at least trying to. Not that I was scared, but this encounter had been weirder than most.

  "I met a shade." I told him about the encounter.

  He listened and nodded every few moments.

  "She seemed pretty specific," I said finally. "Why would she seek me out?"

  "Perhaps she heard you keep ditching your partners." His tone was dry. We had this discussion a ton of times before.

  "I work better alone." Admittedly I could have used some help tonight, but I'd managed in the end. More or less.

  Malachai sighed. "Nonetheless, I believe it would be wise if no one went out alone for the time being." He held up a finger. A tattoo of a snake wound from his knuckle to the tip of his finger.

  "There may be nothing to this, but it also might be something. Shades are smart enough to have motives and act on them." He seemed to be referring to something specific, but didn't elaborate.

  "It doesn't have to be Seamus," he said after a moment. "We could bring in someone from another team. Two someones if you really won't work with Seamus. One for you and one for him. I've been thinking about expanding our team for a while now. We have the room."

  I frowned.

  As team leader, it was his call; he didn't need my permission or feedback.

  I gave it an
yway. "You really think we need help? We're doing okay with the five of us."

  He shrugged with one shoulder. "In the past there would have been a dozen of us at least."

  "And a lot more demons."

  He ran a hand through his black hair and frowned. "I'm not sure there was. Have their numbers really diminished or are we missing them? They might be hiding behind a veil of the world's problems. Goodness knows there are enough of those."

  "Is this where you suggest that most of the world's leaders are demons?" I had heard this theory before and it gave me chills.

  "Demons or some other kind of paranormal with an agenda. I still think it's plausible. Although," he added dryly, "for a demon to openly display demonic behaviour would be foolish."

  "Sometimes it takes a normal human to behave badly," I agreed. "Or inhumanely. Maybe an advisor or two then?"

  Malachai nodded. "That's possible. Some people are more open to mind control than others. However, that's a problem for other teams, not ours. At least not now. We have to deal with your friend the shade and whatever she's up to."

  "I would hardly call her a friend," I retorted. "But if you feel like we need more people, then by all means, bring them in. Just please make sure they're fully trained. I don't have time to hold their hands." I took a breath and gave him an apologetic look. "Not to tell you how to do your job or anything."

  "Of course not," he replied, favouring me with a smirk. "Not that I would listen if you did."

  "And they say I'm difficult," I teased.

  "Who says that?" Freya asked, walking into the room. Her coveralls were encrusted with a layer of blood and who knows what else.

  "No one."