Hunting Darkness (City of Darkness Book 1)

by Maggie Alabaster

  I waited for Damien to place his order, then stepped back out into the mall.

  "If any demons are pulling anything weird, she showed no sign of it." I bit into my muffin and slid my gaze around the immediate area. "That's going to make detecting anything difficult."

  Damien muttered his agreement around a mouthful of burger. The kind of food I wouldn't eat this early in the day, although it was technically bed time.

  "We'll work it out. We always do," he said eventually, wiping grease from his chin before it dribbled off.

  "Yeah. I suppose so." In spite of the rapidly warming morning, I felt a chill. Undetectable demon whammies were on the top of my list of pet hates.

  Right above anchovies and mansplaining.

  4

  I awoke in a lather and added nightmares to my list of pet hates.

  I didn't have them often, but when I did, they freaked me out. At least until I managed to catch my breath and process what I'd dreamed.

  I broke it down, piece by piece.

  Neither shades nor spiders drove cars, at least as far as I knew. For one thing, neither would qualify for a driver's licence.

  The thought of a shade sitting for a photograph made me chuckle for a moment. Would they show as a blob of darkness, or not show at all? Would they ask to have the photo taken again because they had their eyes closed? Red-eye reduction would be useless.

  A spider the size of the one Seamus befriended would have even less chance. None of their eight legs would reach the pedals. A spider demon might have more success, if they impersonated a human, but I'd never heard of one doing that. Spiders tended to just be—well—too spidery.

  The nightmare then became darker. The woman Damien and I followed the day before turned into a shade. She taunted me, red eyes flashing like blinking lights. She disappeared into the shadows, then reappeared in a rush and pushed me off the overpass into traffic.

  I windmilled my arms as I dropped slowly. Eventually, I landed in the path of an ice cream truck playing a jaunty tune.

  I woke with a jolt, arms flailing above my head.

  Breathless again from reliving the dream, I paused and thought carefully.

  People didn't just become shades. Shades were demons. They had never been people. And for one to push me in front of an ice cream truck, for fuck's sake? That made even less sense.

  Being pushed off the overpass was the only thing which might actually be possible. It wouldn't even take a demon to do it, just someone under the influence of one. Or someone being an asshole.

  Note to self, stay away from assholes.

  I tossed off the covers and lowered my feet to the cold concrete floor. A blackout blind left the room so dark I had to feel my way across to the window to slide it up. The late afternoon sun angled in and turned my small room a warm golden hue.

  I opened the window a crack. The heat wafted in and took the edge off the too-cold air conditioning.

  When I first moved in, I had a running battle with Malachai to have the headquarters a little warmer. I would turn the AC down and he would turn it back up. Neither of us spoke a word about it, but we both knew what was going on. I assumed he'd cave, sooner or later.

  I was wrong. Stubborn bastard.

  "At least we know he's not a snake demon," Damien remarked, when he saw me adjusting the thermostat for the hundredth time.

  "Yeah, at least there's that," I replied. No one else on the team seemed to care about the temperature, so I had given up and resorted to opening windows to let in the warmth.

  In an hour and with the onset of darkness, I would be out in the heat complaining about it, if only to myself.

  I had a quick shower and headed downstairs for food. I preferred a bigger meal at this time of day, something to keep me going for the night.

  "Hey," Seamus greeted me the moment I stepped into the kitchen. He slid something into the oven and grabbed a pot out of the cupboard. "I'm making us dinner. Or breakfast. Whatever you want to call it."

  "Cool," I replied before I headed over to make coffee.

  If he was bothered by my lukewarm response, he didn't show it. Instead, he grinned broadly and declared, "I'm making your favourite."

  "Cheese on toast?" I turned my face toward him while I stirred.

  His face fell. "No. Homemade chicken pie and veggies. Damo said…"

  "Oh that." I decided to put him out of his misery. "Yeah, that is my favourite." Along with anything else I didn't have to make. I took my turn, like the rest of them, but cooking wasn't my thing. I was better at killing things than baking them.

  "What's the occasion?" I drew a chair away from the table and sat, my legs crossed at the knees.

  "Does there have to be one?" He opened the freezer and pulled out a few bags of frozen vegetables.

  "Usually," I said. "That's how the world works. If you make someone's favourite, there's a reason for doing it."

  He put the steamer and vegetables into the pot with a clatter, then turned and shrugged. "All right, so maybe there is."

  "Okay," I said slowly. I sipped my coffee and watched him for any irrational behaviour. In spite of being ingratiating, this was pretty normal for him. Well, normal with a touch of confidence, like he'd displayed when showing off the spider. I eyed him carefully for a sign of arachnids, but saw none.

  "What is it?"

  He edged over and pulled out the chair beside her. "I've come to a realisation," he declared.

  "Oh? Do tell." Honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it. More to the point, he wouldn't want to hear my response. Still, we had to have this conversation sooner or later.

  Seamus cleared his throat. "I—" His voice squeaked. He blushed, almost as red as his hair.

  "Your voice finally broke?" Damien asked as he stepped into the room.

  "Hey!" Seamus said in protest. He swivelled in his chair to glare at Damien.

  Damien held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry. It was either that or your—" He gestured toward his groin.

  "Must you be so crude?" Freya followed him into the room.

  Damien looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes," he replied finally. "Yes, I must." He poured himself some coffee and grinned at me before he slipped back out of the room.

  "And he wonders why I won't go out with him," Freya said loudly. "He's so immature."

  "I heard that!" Damien called from somewhere else in the headquarters.

  "You were supposed to." Freya gave a cheeky grin before taking her own coffee in the direction Damien went. Their banter faded gradually as they headed toward the back of the building, presumably to the training room.

  "So, anyway…" I expected Seamus had probably lost his nerve after that exchange. Or at least, I hoped he had.

  "Yes, I have something to say," he said. He drew himself up, looking if anything, more confident.

  "Yes, Seamus?"

  He cleared his throat. "I like you," he said, without squeaking.

  "I like you too," I replied carefully.

  He looked taken aback. "You do?"

  "Sure. Why wouldn't I? You're a nice guy. A good friend." I sipped to cover my discomfort.

  His face fell. "I didn't mean… I like you as more than a friend."

  I licked my lips and considered my response. "I understand." I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I don't feel the same way."

  His face fell. "Oh." He looked as though he got struck across the face with a dead fish.

  "I'd like to stay friends," I said as gently as possible. "I don't want to hurt you, I just—" I put a hand on his arm.

  He looked down at it, then shook it off.

  I sat back. "If you have a problem with women who can be honest—"

  "I don't," he snapped. "I just thought you and I…" He shook his head. "We'd make a great team."

  I had expected him to be hurt, but I didn't have much patience for men who couldn't deal with rejection. This was more than that though. He had his newly found confidence and I'd taken him back down a notch.
Only—it wasn't his confidence, if the shade had anything to do with it. Ordinarily, he didn't have an arrogant bone in his body.

  "I know this must be confusing," I started.

  He rose and shoved his chair back with a screech of wood on concrete.

  "No!" He paused. "Yes." He shook his head violently, then drew back. His eyes flicked back and forth.

  "I don't know what to think," he whispered. "I know you didn't… But I had to tell you." For a moment, he looked like his old self; caring, sweet, gentle—unless you were a demon.

  His lips twisted upward in a sneer. "It's your loss." The arrogance was back.

  I set my coffee aside and moved to stand in front of him. "Maybe you should lie down for a while. You seem to be a bit sick."

  "I'm fine," he snapped.

  "You're not fine," I said. "You're trembling."

  Beads of sweat broke out on his brow. A war seemed to be taking place in his mind. He stalked away from me, toward the stove. Toward the pot. His hand curled around the handle.

  "Seamus, don't—"

  He lifted the pot and swung around. I raised my hands in front of my face. Through my fingers I watched him stomp over to the sink and add water to the pot before returning it to the stove.

  "I said I would make dinner," he muttered to himself. "And I will." He turned the burner on the stove and a flame lit underneath the pot. It danced happily, pointed fingers caressing the stainless steel.

  "I know you will," I told him carefully. "The pie smells good."

  "Yeah…" He sounded sulky.

  The soft thud of footsteps sounded behind me. Malachai appeared in the corner of my eye.

  "Is everything all right?" He looked from one of us to the other.

  "Seamus seems to be a little stressed," I said, not fully taking my eyes off the younger man.

  "I see," Malachai replied. "Fearless?"

  "More than that," I said.

  "I'm fine," Seamus snapped. He pulled five plates out of the cupboard over the stove and slapped them onto the bench so hard I was surprised they didn't break. Any harder and they would have shattered, like my nerves.

  I looked directly at Malachai and mouthed, "Irrational."

  He nodded. "Seamus. Have you had any headaches lately?"

  The younger man narrowed his eyes and stared. "No. Why?"

  "No reason," Malachai replied. "Excuse us for a few moments." He gestured for me to precede him from the room.

  I stopped short of the headquarters' front door and leaned on the wall beside it. "He's behaving very strangely." I briefly told Malachai about their conversation. "It's as though he can't think straight some of the time. Then at others he's confused."

  "Perhaps it's not fear the shade, or her cohort, are suppressing," Malachai mused, "but rational thought. Fear can be rational at times, but often it is not."

  "Being scared of a spider which isn't venomous," I said slowly. "Or being scared of rejection. Or—death." I remembered the woman on the street. Her behaviour hadn't been what I'd consider rational. Buying breakfast from a fast food place, for one thing. It wasn't the best way to start the day, but it was her health.

  Although, Damien had ordered a burger. Maybe he was showing signs of the same thing?

  No, he would have done that anyway, that was just him.

  "You don't seem to be affected," I pointed out.

  "Of course not," he smiled. "I'm a rational guy. I might not be capable of irrational thought."

  I eyed him sideways. "That's irrational."

  He chuckled. "Maybe. Very well, if I start acting odd, I'm sure you'll tell me."

  "Of course. Same here." I rubbed the tip of my nose. "What do we do with Seamus?"

  "I think we can start by speaking to him. He might simply be overwrought or under some kind of pressure we're not aware of."

  "That would be the mother of all coincidences," I muttered.

  "Yes, it would, but still not the strangest thing either of us has ever seen."

  "Ain't that the truth." I followed him back to the kitchen.

  5

  "Nice weather we're having," Malachai remarked.

  I shot him a funny look, which he ignored. I reclaimed my coffee and drank the rest before it went cold.

  Seamus grunted and gave Malachai a glance over his shoulder. "If you say so."

  "I do say so," Malachai agreed. He pulled drinking glasses out of the cupboard and placed them beside the plates. "However, I am curious as to how you are today, Seamus."

  Seamus' body stiffened. "I'm fine. I wish everyone would get the fuck off my back."

  Malachai glanced at me, one pierced brow raised.

  I shrugged. Seamus almost never swore, but it wasn't much of an indication of anything wrong. When under pressure, people often acted out of character. Or more in character, if they let their day-to-day mask slip.

  "I don't mean to be on your back," Malachai said reasonably. "I just—"

  Seamus rounded on him, wielding a wooden spoon. In the hands of most people, it was harmless. For someone with Demon Hunter training, he could inflict damage if he jammed it in particular places. Some more painful and deadly than others.

  "I said, back the fuck off! What is it with you two today? First you're worried about a pissy little spider, now this. Can't I cook without being hassled?"

  Malachai stepped back, hands raised. "There's no need for that. I'm just concerned. You seem to be under a lot of pressure at the moment. As team leader, it's my job to be sure everyone is okay. If you're under too much strain, I'll insist you rest and recuperate."

  "For the hundredth time, I'm—" Seamus stopped and blinked, then lowered his hand. The spoon flopped to the side; water dripped from it onto the floor. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be yelling at you." His gaze flicked back and forth between me and Malachai.

  "I don't know what happened."

  "Maybe you should sit down." Malachai gestured toward a chair and sat in one beside him.

  Seamus placed the spoon onto a plate and sat down with a thud and a sigh. "You think something is happening to me, don't you? Is it about the spider?"

  Malachai and I exchanged looks.

  "Possibly," Malachai replied. "Take us back to that."

  "I don't know what to say. I found a spider and I wasn't scared of it." Seamus shuddered. "I guess that was kinda weird. Usually I'd just go for the bug spray or a shoe."

  "It's just a little weird," I agreed. I pressed a palm to the back of a chair and braced myself, posture relaxed, but ready.

  "But—" Seamus went on as though he hadn't heard. "That's not a bad thing, right?" His expression was thoughtful. "It's not good to be scared of everything. Or—anything." His gaze settled on me.

  I gave him an apologetic look. "Sometimes you have to put yourself out there, even if you get knocked back, or knocked down. It's all a part of life. But to be scared of creepy insects, that's perfectly rational to me." I grimaced. Give me a puppy, or even a snake, but not a creepy crawly.

  "And yet, it's not rational," Malachai replied. "Most of them are harmless, in spite of what the Internet says about Australian wildlife." He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "However, when it's out of character, that's when I get worried."

  He paused, then added, "Since when do you shout?" He poked a finger in Seamus' direction. "Have you been feeling irritable in the last day or two? Are you getting enough sleep?"

  Seamus frowned in thought. "I haven't felt cranky. I'm sleeping just fine. In fact, I've never felt better." He drew himself up before slumping back down again. "I mean, apart from getting angry just now. I feel like I could—I don't know—" he cocked his head, "take on the world, or something."

  Malachai rubbed his chin. "How so?"

  Seamus rested the heel of his hand on the table and drummed his fingers. "I just feel braver. As if I could take on all the demons in Sydney single handedly. Well, almost." He looked pointedly at me. "I could use a little help."

  I gave him a side-eye. "I don't need
any help," I said dryly. "Besides, brave is a synonym for reckless." When both men turned to look at me, I gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Well it is, look it up."

  "In spite of how you might feel," Malachai said over the growing tension in the room, "I think you better rest. Spend some time in the training room. Burn off some of this world-saving energy."

  "I won't be doing my job if I'm in the training room," Seamus pointed out. His voice rose just slightly.

  My hand tightened on the back of the chair. "You won't be endangering anyone either," I said, deliberately provoking him. If he really was all right, he wouldn't lash out as readily as he had earlier.

  "I might," he said, looking sullen. "I might forget I should be scared of dropping weights on my foot."

  "If you're really not smart enough to—" I stopped when he started to grin. "Maybe I should drop one for you."

  "Now, now," Malachai scolded lightly. "This will get us nowhere. Seamus, you will rest until we have some sort of handle on the situation. That is not open for negotiation," he added when Seamus started to argue. "We will look into this. I have a contact I can speak to. The shade spoke to Juliet, maybe it will do so again. At any rate, we have overcome worse before. We will get past this too."

  He pressed his palms to the table and stood. "Now, I believe you were cooking dinner, Seamus? Unless I'm mistaken, that's steam rising from a vegetable pot. Perhaps it's almost ready?"

  Seamus swore under his breath and jumped up from his chair.

  Malachai raised an eyebrow in amusement and I bit back a laugh.

  "The pie is ready." Seamus pulled the dish out of the oven and placed it on a cooling rack.

  I sniffed. It certainly did smell good. As long as it didn't have spiders inside it, I would happily eat more of it than I should.

  "Good, I'll go and get Freya and Damien." Malachai started toward the door.

  "Only because you won't get a gong, like I keep suggesting," I observed.

  He smiled and shook his head before walking away.

  "I think a gong would be a good idea," Seamus said as he spooned vegetables onto plates. "We could take turns hitting it." He mimed whacking one with the spoon and let his hand shake with the force of the mock blow.