Demon Hunter Read online

  Look around you.

  This is my lair.

  Within these walls lies all the information you’ll need to stay strong and safe. You might want to start with my journals and then read the Black Book of Demons—a black book that lists known demons and information about them. That book is special. Do not try to remove it from the lair. Read everything you can in here, absorb every piece of demonology you can because you will need it if you are going to strike out against them. The legacy is clear…there was a reason for it back then and there still is. I just wanted to extricate our family from the centuries old obligation that obviously took my life.

  Remember that knowledge is what will save you. Knowledge and practice will keep you and those you love safer, but safer is not safe. I want you both to be safest of all, but that can only come if neither of you becomes the next hunter.

  I implore you. Leave this house now. Today. Pack up, take each other’s hands, and run like the wind. Sterling will help you get where you need to go. Pack your bags right now and start a life free of the darkness I have lived with most of my adult life.

  And never, ever forget how much I love you all. You mean the world to me and I’ve done everything I can to protect you from the evil walking this world.

  Be strong.

  Stay in the light.

  Keep love and joy in your hearts.

  I love you more than you could know—

  Mom.

  Denny set the letter down on the desk and lay her cheek on it. She didn’t know how long she was like that, but when she woke up, Rush was back in the lair with her.

  “Come on, lover, it’s time for bed. You can come back here in the morning, but right now, you need a pillow and your bed.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Baby. Right now, I’m the boss of you, per your mama’s orders. Get a move on. We’ll discuss this more in the morning.”

  Denny did and was asleep in less than ten seconds.

  ****

  Denny’s Journal

  I’d never seen a room like my mother’s lair. The bookshelves were impressive not only in size, but in completeness and their order. She took great pains to organize it all. Some of the books on those shelves were hundreds of years old, their leather spines weathered and cracked. The musky scent of old leather and dust hovered in the air as dust particles got caught in the thin line of sunlight streaming through the windows. The books were most fascinating and I found myself looking forward to seeing what pearls of wisdom they contained.

  Wisdom.

  God, I needed some of that now. I was so out of my element, yet so completely at ease here in this den of demonology. It was weird. It felt like…like I belonged. That was the only way to explain it.

  Aside from the gorgeous bookshelves filled with antique books, manuscripts and scrolls, there was a map with pins, a globe, a ladder, and that incredible roll-top desk. The desk was old and worn. A slab of green marble was inlaid in the desktop, and drawers upon drawers I couldn’t wait to get into. The desk seemed to contain undisclosed aspects of my mother and it felt like she was right there with me.

  But the thing that stuck out the most was The Black Book of Demons sitting in the center of the desk. The book was six inches thick and covered with a scarred brown leather cover that appeared to have fingerprints on it. The paper inside was like vellum and I couldn’t wait to have the time to sit down and go through it.

  It was a lot to take in—a conversation with my catatonic mother, talking with Rush, the discovery that I was from a family that hunted demons, and a sequestered lair that contained information that would help me understand what my mother had to do to navigate the dangerous curves of the supernatural roadways—all this in just a couple hours was pretty heady stuff that I was certain I wasn’t ready for.

  But there was a real life that needed to be lived first...and part of that life was Pure, who needed my full attention right now. Legacy or not, I wasn’t going to let her down. I needed to keep both feet planted firmly in the here and now.

  And right here, right now, I had a little sister to raise.

  ****

  “Can you give me a ride to school?” Pure asked as she bounded up the stairs. She wore barely there jean shorts and a t-shirt that read. “There’s no Bull about the Bulldogs.”

  Denny cut her eyes over at the shorts and shook her head. “After you change into something bigger than a bandaid. Where’s Kristine?”

  “Dentist appointment. I could always wait and go later with her.”

  Denny nodded before spitting her toothpaste out in the sink. “Uh uh. Change and I’ll take you. Be ready to go in fifteen.”

  Pure looked over Denny’s shoulder at their reflection in the mirror. Their emerald green eyes betrayed their genetic connection. “You okay? You don’t look so hot.”

  “A lot on my mind is all.”

  “You shoulda never let yourself get sucked into Quick’s head games. Is that what it is? Is he trying to convince you he’s innocent?”

  “Nothing that big. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” Denny started out of the bathroom.

  “You need to go out, Den. It’s not healthy hanging around here all the time. Rush would understand. She’s cool that way.”

  “Has she been confiding in you? Because, to be honest, there’s very little Rush is cool about.”

  “Not really.”

  Denny stopped so fast that Pure ran into her. “I know what not really means. What did she say to you?”

  “Not much. She just told me to keep an eye out on you. That’s all. She worries.”

  “Well, you both need to stop worrying about me. I’m fine.” Pushing past Pure, Denny headed downstairs where she grabbed her keys and made for the car. “Goddamn it, Rush,” Denny said aloud even though Rush was invisible. “Stay out of this. I mean it. This is not your call to make.” She jumped into the Prius and waited for Rush to appear. She didn’t. “Coward,” Denny muttered just before Pure got in.

  “No need to get all huffy just because people care about you.”

  “I’m not huffy. I just don’t need Rush butting in where she isn’t wanted.”

  “Ouch.”

  They drove the rest of the way in silence to the high school.

  Grabbing her backpack, Pure opened the door. “I’ll be home late. I’ve got Forensics.”

  Denny grabbed Pure’s wrist. “Whoa. One second here. When did you join the Debate Team?”

  “Last week. I thought it would be fun. I told you, but you weren’t really listening. You never really listen any more.”

  “Fun?” Denny shook her head. “I’m twenty-one, Pure, not eighty-one. I’m not stupid. There’s nothing fun about debate. What’s his name?”

  A pink blush crept up Pure’s neck.

  “Don’t try to hide it, kiddo. It’s all over your face. His name.”

  Pure set her backpack on her lap. “His name is Mike.”

  “Mike—”

  “Cockerton. He’s from California. The Bay Area to be exact.”

  “Where did you meet this Mike Cockerton?”

  Looking out the passenger window, Pure waved to her group of friends. “We have two classes together.”

  “Do you like him, or—”

  “There he is. That’s him over there.” Pure pointed.

  “Which one?”

  “The one wearing the Cal Bears letterman jacket.”

  Denny squinted at the short, block-shaped kid who looked too old to be in high school. He wore muttonchops, had a unibrow, and looked more like Wolverine from the X-Men than a teenager. “Why does he wear that? Doesn’t the idiot know we’re in Dog Country?”

  Pure put her leg out the door. “Dunno. It’s cool, though. I think he’s super cute, and the rest of the girls are all vying for his attention.”

  “Doesn’t it sort of piss people off?” Denny watched as Mike Cockerton slowly peeled from the group he was with and joined Pure’s friends.

  “T
hat’s why he’s so cool. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks. He’s a senior and is going to go back to California as soon as he graduates.”

  Denny hadn’t taken her eyes off Mike Cockerton.

  “God, Den, why not glare at him a little harder? I really like him and—”

  Denny stopped hearing Pure because Mike Cockerton had turned so that he was staring at the car. In the split second their eyes met, Denny felt a wave of nausea flow through her.

  “...so you don’t need to worry.”

  As Pure got out, Denny grabbed Pure’s wrist again so quickly, it surprised them both.

  “You have to trust me on this, Pure. That boy is trouble.”

  Pure pulled on her wrist, but Denny did not let go. “Fucking A, Golden, let go of me.”

  Denny didn’t let go. “I mean it. You need to stay away from him. There’s something...not good about him. You don’t know shit about him.”

  “And you know this how?” Pure pried Denny’s fingers from her wrist. “Never mind. He’s a nice guy and you haven’t met him. Don’t pre-judge. Leave that role for Sterling. She is way better at it than you.”

  “Introduce me, then.”

  Pure backed away from the car, her hand on the door. “Uh uh. Not while you’re being so goddamned judgmental. For once, you’re going to have to trust me, Den.” Pure slammed the door shut and ran to her group of friends.

  Denny’s eyes never left Mike Cockerton. The boy hugged Pure, his eyes once again connecting with Denny’s, as if gloating…as if he’d won.

  Then, Denny did something she’d only seen in the movies. She made a V with her fingers, pointed to her eyes, then pointed the V at him He surprised her when he gave her the okay sign.

  Okay?

  Denny shook her head as she watched the kids meander to class.

  There was nothing okay about that kid. Nothing at all.

  ****

  The Demons

  Balic knew this act would change everything about the way Americans felt about school security. This one went way over the line of bad and dark and crossed deeply into the area of pure, unadulterated evil.

  But whose fault was that? Humans simply did not protect those who needed it most: the elderly and children. They shunted the former off to retirement homes and the latter were raised by nannies and overworked schoolteachers. So, how important could they really be?

  The elder demon had entered a young man frail in mind and weak in spirit and convinced him to perform a deed so heinous it would make Charles Manson look like a novice.

  Manson.

  He had been possessed, and at one point had even admitted to it and yet, the humans did little to discover the veracity of that claim. The Christian enshrouded Americans believed in holy angels, but not in true possession? They were beyond stupid. Evil, it seemed, would be allowed to hide beyond their plebian reaches and settle in the shadows of their worst fears.

  This young man had lived for so long in the shadows that even his cries for help went unheard until he finally and irrevocably acted upon them. He just needed a gentle shove and Balic was more than willing to assist.

  Balic presided over the dozen young demons who were watching his greatest glory from the recent past. They sat in awe of the panic and mayhem he spread that fateful day and how it radiated outward all across the country. They were enrapt as they followed a young, lost boy as he armed himself with weapons he should never have been able to get. They were silent as they observed the youth first shoot his mother in the face as simply and as easily as if he had planted a kiss on her cheek.

  That, alone, would have been evil enough.

  But evil, like taking an antibiotic for too long, is a force humans become immune to. No longer is a brutal murder even enough to get anyone’s attention. Dead soldiers are forgotten too quickly, and even when the demons capsized a boat, the news was not about the dead or those who risked their lives to save those who were drowning, but about the commander who had abandoned ship to escape. All those uplifting stories of heroism were drowned out in the human need of and desire for blame laying.

  Humans were preoccupied with that hobby.

  Of course, what could one expect from individuals who blamed a woman in a garden with a piece of fruit and a talking snake? Blame laying came second nature to humans who were more than willing to believe that ridiculous tale than the truth of their creation.

  All those lost lives became insignificant to a species that spent far too much time discussing the evil doer than the innocents. And they always did. Always. They would always remember Daumer, but not his victims. Kinkle, but not his victims. Humans constantly focused on why some creep did the things he did and hardly any time mourning those taken by them.

  And that made The Brotherhood’s job that much easier.

  By focusing on the truly insignificant whys, humans opened the doors for more evil—evil wanting to be remembered—evil wanting a place in the annals of evil history.

  Hitler

  Jones

  Amin

  Klebold and Harris.

  Dahmer.

  Manson.

  McVeigh.

  Humans cared more about learning what caused some weak-willed, insecure loser to snap than they did celebrating the short lives of those lost. That always came later…long after they had dissected the sickness of man by interviewing everyone down to the toll taker who took his money.

  They were stupid, humans were.

  In the American society where fame trumped even fortune, posthumous fame was becoming the rage. Want to be remembered? Do something heinous and then die. Eat a baby and you’ll be remembered. Save one and you’re forgotten the next day.

  Turning to watch the scene from the past unfold, Balic knew he deserved his place in the annals of evil. He had managed, with one broken young man, to shake an entire nation to its core and make it tremble in fear that had not happened since the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

  As the young demons watched, one little guy raised his hand. “Sir?”

  “Yes, Zar?”

  “All of this chaos and damage...from one human. It is amazing one human could affect three million. The humans will never be the same, will they?”

  Balic shook his head. “Oh, they gnashed their teeth and pulled their hair, and there was a brief concern over the weapons’ laws, but that was it. They fixated on the weapons, as they always do when these types of crimes are committed and not on how broken their spirits are. They are simple, stupid creatures who think guns kill people.”

  “The weapons, sir?” Zar shook his head. “I don’t understand. The weapons were merely a tool…a tool that can do nothing alone.”

  Balic nodded. “Yes, Zar, but the humans would rather examine the tool than their inability to evolve.”

  “But sir, if they really wanted to fix it, wouldn’t they work on trying to figure out why so many of them are broken?”

  Balic grinned. He liked Zar. He would be a very good addition to The Brotherhood.

  “Very good question, Zar. Humans have yet to grasp that evil is hard to perpetrate in a healthy environment. India, the second most populated country, has the second lowest crime rate, even though they have so many poor. We are not there nearly as much as we are in the United States.”

  “Who’s the first?”

  Balic grinned. “Iceland. Apparently, those people are incredibly well-balanced. I believe only three of us are assigned to the whole of that country.”

  “Have you ever been there, sir?”

  “I have no desire to go. They are difficult to shove toward evil. There’s more than enough work for me in the United States and Europe.”

  Zar pondered this a moment. “I hope I get stationed there…the United States, though even that isn’t a correct label is it, sir?”

  “No, Zar, it is not, and you probably will get your wish. Every year they become more unbalanced, more broken. There is much for us to do there.”

  Balic let the human tragedy play out for
the students, all the while knowing this was just the beginning.

  ****

  Denny made a beeline to the coffee shop after class. She couldn’t think any one else to talk to about what was happening to her but Brianna.

  After Denny sat at one of the tables, Brianna walked from behind the counter with a cup in each hand. “Awake tea latte for you, vanilla latte for me.”

  Denny looked up and smiled at her. “Are you always so chipper in the morning?”

  “Actually, yes. I am chipper most of the time. Being alive is truly a gift too many take for granted, don’t you think?”

  “I’m sure your roommates love that.”

  Brianna shrugged. “I live in a...sorority of sorts.”

  “Really? Do you like it?”

  “I love it. Quiet neighborhood. I’m able to study and do my own thing without any hassles. I have…like minded sister.”

  “Do your own thing with sisters? What kinds of things? Witch things?”

  Brianna grinned. “Wiccan and yes.”

  “What’s you major?”

  “Double major of History and Philosophy. You?”

  “Mass Comm.”

  Brianna sipped her coffee, her eyes unabashedly surveying Denny. “I know you live at the Holbrook House, but you’re not from the south, are you?”

  Denny shook her head. “My family moved here from California when I was six. I fell in love with the ambiance, the trees—”

  “The bugs in the summer?”

  Denny laughed. “Yeah, that, too.”

  A comfortable silence hung in the air between them.

  Brianna lowered her voice and asked, “I got the feeling when you called that this isn’t a social visit. What can I help you with?”

  Denny set her tea down. She felt bad for giving off such strong antisocial vibes. “Forgive me for just jumping in here, but I don’t have a lot of time. What do you know about demons?”

  Brianna didn’t flinch. “Ah. Demons. You think that because I’m a witch, I’d know about all things evil?”

  Denny shook her head. “I need a starting place. I thought you might be a good point. I’m sorry if—”