The Demon Hunter (The Hunter Series)

  “I need information now,” Devon demanded, shifting so they stood upright, Ellie leaning hard against him. “Where are they?”

  “We aren’t telling you a thing until we know for sure you’re Devon.”

  “Shite.” Devon leaned his head closer to hers, his warm breath stirring the tendrils along the side of her face. “When I say run, run.”

  Was he serious? She could barely stand, let alone run. Devon disappeared and reappeared in front of the men. Without his support, Ellie stumbled, falling against a table. The shouts were too loud, the sound of breaking wood and glass unbearable, thrumming against her brain like cymbals to her ears. Her stomach clenched, bile rising to her throat.

  “Ellie,” Devon called. “Run!”

  Right. Run. She pushed away from the table and stumbled toward the door, but the room tilted and her feet couldn’t quite seem to find the floorboards. Devon threw his fist wide, hitting the man with the leather vest in the face and propelling him backward. Another man grabbed Devon’s arm. They were a swirl of color and motion. An odd ballet she couldn’t quite understand.

  Ellie swiveled her head, attempting to focus on the door. So damn close, yet she couldn’t seem to move forward. Her muscles no longer worked, her brain was no longer connected to her body.

  Just a few steps, she could do it. Ellie brought her leg forward, but before her foot hit the ground, firm arms pulled her back into a hard chest.

  “Stop, or she dies!”

  The room grew quiet, male faces turning toward her. She felt the sharp sting of a dagger point to her neck, but could barely care. She was floating, the chairs and tables twirling around her. The light was fading, the room fading. She no longer existed and she knew that thought should have frightened her. Yet, for some reason she didn’t care.

  “Don’t you think,” Devon snapped, his shoulders rising with each harsh intake of his breath. “That if I was the demon I wouldn’t give a shite if you killed her?”

  “Not if she was important to ye,” the Irish man’s voice sounded next to her ear. So, he held her then. “It’s obvious she has powers. What she is, we don’t know and that makes me suspicious.”

  “So then do it,” Devon demanded. “Kill us.”

  Ellie opened her mouth to protest, but the words couldn’t seem to get past her lips. Before she could hear their response, the world shifted. The light faded. The ground disappeared. Ellie sank into the man holding her and tumbled into darkness.

  ****

  The drip, drip, drip of condensation was the only noise in the large cell.

  Devon slowly rubbed the back of his neck, the base of his skull thumping. Someone had whacked him over the head, knocking him unconscious. But his concern wasn’t for himself. No. Ellie barely even breathed as she lay upon his lap.

  He’d woken up in this dank dungeon, Ellie next to him. Seeing her so still, so pale… he swore his heart had actually stopped for a brief moment. Devon drew his hand down the side of her face. She didn’t stir. He wrapped his fingers around hers, drawing her hand into his palm. She was cold. Bitterly cold. His worry burst anew. The fierce desire to protect her roared through his veins. If they’d done her any harm, he’d kill them. He knew it was wrong, and the angel deep down balked at his determination, but he didn’t care. Bloody hell, somehow this woman had found a way into his heart.

  He didn’t have time to dwell on that disturbing realization. Ellie’s fingers curled, the slightest of movements. “Ellie?” The hope that flared within was pathetic. Damn it all, he was here to do a job and return to Heaven, he didn’t have time to get involved with a human. “Ellie, open your eyes,” he demanded, as if he could force her.

  Her lashes lifted and it was like the sun had risen. Warmth swept through his body, clenched his soul in its glowing grip. But something was wrong. With his heightened sense of sight, he could tell that her pupils were too wide, swallowing the green color of her eyes. His hope wavered.

  “Devon?” she rasped.

  His hands trembled as he cupped the sides of her face. “I’m here.”

  Her fingers wrapped around his wrists. “I can’t see you.”

  A shiver of unease raced over his body. It was dark, but she should have been able to see his form from the only light coming from the window above. “Can you see anything at all?”

  She shook her head. “Should I?”

  Devon clenched his jaw, a lump of emotion filling his throat. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. He’d known she was absorbing Kipps’ vampire powers. It had been obvious she’d been craving blood by the look on her face, but it didn’t explain why she had collapsed. And the bastards had used Devon’s emotions to get the better of him. The moment he’d seen her fall, his concentration had broken.

  “It’s okay. It’s bloody dark. We’re in a dungeon.” He didn’t want to frighten her more and so he lied.

  She closed her eyes. “I feel horrible.”

  He ran his hands down her body, over her hips, down her smooth thighs. He didn’t feel the dark aura of a spell, yet he knew this was no human virus.

  “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered.

  His heart squeezed. Damn it all, when had he come to care for her so? He wanted to heal her, slay fucking dragons for her. “I don’t know.”

  She shoved his hands away from her. “Go. Leave me. Transport out, or whatever it is you do.”

  “I can’t.” He lied again. “It’s lead. One of few elements that absorb powers.” Although lead might block a vampire or werewolf, it most likely wouldn’t work on him. But he could only transport alone. If he couldn’t take her with him, he’d stay. Besides, even if he left, where would he find reinforcements?

  “We’re trapped?”

  “For now.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead. “When Ashley and Cristian return, they’ll figure this out. Rest, Ellie.”

  From above, the screeching sound of metal against metal rang through the air. Someone was opening the window. Devon stiffened, breath held.

  “Are ye ready tae give answers?” John’s loud voice boomed against the stone walls.

  “I told you what I know,” Devon growled.

  The urge to go after the man overwhelmed him. If he transported out of this prison, they’d be waiting for him and he would be no match against a town of supernaturals. Damn it all, he had no one to help and he would not leave her here alone.

  “Not everything.”

  “Go to hell,” Devon snapped up at them.

  He knew deep down they were good men merely being overly cautious, but at the moment he wanted to knock their heads together.

  “All we’re asking fer is the truth,” John said.

  Devon sighed, his hands fisting. He knew, even with the truth, they most likely wouldn’t believe him. He had no choice but to try. “Someone did a spell. I was torn from the pits of hell and thrown back on earth to my ancestral home.”

  “My head throbs so much, I can’t take it,” Ellie whispered, drawing his attention back to her.

  He pressed his hands to the sides of her face, his fear mounting. “Ellie?”

  She didn’t respond. He could practically feel the pain vibrating from her body, pulsing against his flesh. He would take her pain, if he could. But he couldn’t. He was helpless. Ellie went limp and he knew she had fainted once more. Fear and anger combined into a fiery infernal that ravaged his insides.

  He could hear the soft murmur of conversation from above. They were planning their next move. He wasn’t about to stand by and wait. Devon settled her gently upon the floor. She didn’t even flinch, merely lay there limp, still, like a ragdoll.

  Spurred by his emotions and the fear that he might lose her, he jumped to his feet. “Enough!” his voice bellowed across the stone room.

  “Just tell us who the girl is,” John said. “Where’d she come from?”

  “I don’t know,” Devon said, lying. He wasn’t about to tell them what Ellie was, nor how important she could be. They didn’t tr
ust him and he sure as hell didn’t trust them.

  They were silent, but he could see their dark forms above. Only two… Kipps and John. He could hold his own with the two, perhaps even win in a fight against them. Dare he try?

  “My guess is you’re using her as some sort of portal,” Kipps’ stated. “A being from which to draw energy from.”

  “Damn you!” Devon yelled up to them, his patience wearing thin. “She’s dying!”

  When they didn’t respond, his patience disappeared. There was no more time to wait. Devon closed his eyes and concentrated on being in that room with them. The world grew black, the wind rushing through his hair as he burst through time and space.

  The moment he felt the stone floor beneath his feet, Devon lashed out, giving them no time to react. His fist connected with John’s face, sending the man’s head snapping back. Before Kipps could react, Devon snatched the dagger from John’s hand. He wrapped his arm around John’s beefy neck and pressed the pointed knife to his pulse, much like they’d done to Ellie only an hour ago. An eye for an eye.

  “It’s time to believe me,” Devon growled.

  “We need answers, Devon,” Kipps said, shifting uncomfortably, his gaze going from Devon, to John who was gasping for air. “You can’t expect us to just trust you after what happened. Hell, you were possessed by that demon only six months ago. How do we know you aren’t now?”

  “Because,” Devon growled. “If the demon had control of me, you’d already be dead.”

  “Kipps,” John warned, sweat beading on his bald head. “We can’t trust him.”

  Kipps sighed, lifting his cap and slapping it impatiently against his thigh. Devon noted the resignation in the man’s eyes, but didn’t dare relax. “He’s right, John.”

  “You don’t know that,” John hissed. “We can’t be sure. We have to protect our families, damn it all.”

  “I do know for sure, and you would realize it too, if you weren’t so emotionally involved.”

  Feeling the larger man relax, Devon released his hold and stepped back, the knife still raised.

  John rubbed his neck, glaring. “Last man tae call me emotional, ended up dead.”

  Devon ignored the two, instead planning his escape. The room was small, only two doors and that window that looked down into the dungeon below.

  “Was built in the sixties,” Kipps explained, with a nod toward the dungeon. “As a precaution.”

  Devon didn’t give a shite, all he cared about was getting Ellie out of there. He made his way to the closest door. Kipps followed, slipping a key into the deadbolt.

  “So I take it the spell Ashley and Camile performed didn’t work?” Kipps asked, opening the door.

  “Depends on what sort of spell they were doing.” Devon raced down the dark steps. Only a single bulb hung from the ceiling, sending a weak glow to the cement stairway.

  “Attempting to send you to heaven and the demon to hell.”

  “This definitely isn’t heaven,” Devon muttered, stopping at the next door. He could feel the lead encased around the area. The strength pulsing from the room was Ellie’s. He briefly closed his eyes. Bloody hell, she had so much energy, he was surprised she hadn’t exploded.

  “If it didn’t work on ye,” John stated, following them. “Then that means it most likely didn’t bloody work on the demoon.”

  “He’s here. On earth.”

  They were silent, their pale faces showing their shock.

  “Has there been any odd activity?” Devon asked, waiting impatiently for Kipps to open the door. The vampire was sweating, effects from being so close to the lead, or fear because of the demon’s escape?

  “None, since you sacrificed yourself to bind the demon, all has been quiet.” Kipps pulled open the door. “We need to speak with Ashley and Cristian.”

  “No, first, we need to help Ellie.” He burst into the dark room and found her easily, laying upon the ground exactly where he had left her. His heart clenched. Devon scooped her up into his arms, her body chill against his.

  “Something’s wrong with her,” he stated the obvious, uncaring if they heard the catch in his voice. Damn it all, this was his fault for bringing her here. His fault for forcing her into that car a week ago.

  “This way,” Kipps stated.

  Devon started up the stairs and into the room above the dungeon. If he could take it back, the day he’d forced her into that car, he would. But he couldn’t. All he could do was save Ellie.

  “This way,” Kipps stated, pushing the other door wide. Brilliant sunlight burst into the room, a warm welcome. Devon rushed outside and laid her upon the grass in the small back garden of a nondescript stone home. He prayed the sunshine and fresh air would do her good. But in the daylight, his worry grew. She was white as snow, her breathing so shallow, he could barely see her chest rise.

  “She doesn’t look good,” John stated the obvious.

  “Tell us what she is, and maybe we can help,” Kipps insisted.

  Devon remained quiet, the only sound the chirp of a robin from somewhere in the trees beyond the garden. They were waiting. He didn’t know how to help her. The Heavens would not assist. He had no choice but to trust them.

  “She’s an empath.”

  “Holy shite,” John whispered, his round face lost any color. As a leprechaun, he was old, older than any of them. If someone knew about empaths, he would. “It’s not that there’s something wrong with her, its us.”

  “What do you mean?” Devon insisted.

  “She’s absorbing our powers.” John tore his gaze from Ellie’s still form and focused on Devon. “Ye think demoons are dangerous? That wee lass has the power tae kill us all.”

  Devon’s heart actually stopped beating for a brief moment.

  “But if she isn’t cleansed of our abilities, the only thing she’s going tae end up is dead.”

  Chapter 13

  The house was empty, but the memories lingered like lost souls. Devon carried Ellie inside Ashley’s home and up the stairs. There was that same saucy lady carved into the end of the railing, the same wooden wainscoting darkened with age, and the same chandelier glowing above. But the place was cleaner and pieces of furniture gave the former pub a homey feel. Instead of the dustiness of age, the place smelled like lemons. Ashley had settled down, moved in, while he had rotted in hell. Oddly, none of that mattered at the moment.

  “Where are you taking her?” Kipps asked, as he and John filtered into the entryway.

  “To rest and pray she recovers.” At the second floor, he moved down the dark hall. No ghosts dwelled in the building, they’d long ago moved onto the other side thanks to Ashley and Cristian. Except for him; he was the only lost spirit left, although no longer a ghost. How strange that only six months ago this pub had been haunted with restless spirits. How odd that it was here where he’d been brought back to life…twice.

  He nudged open the wooden door that led to his bedroom. The room still held his bed; his borrowed clothing was folded neatly upon the small dressing table. The house might have changed, but this room hadn’t. Ashley had left it the same, as if… as if hoping he’d return. Only days ago that realization would have thrilled him. How he had loved Ashley, or perhaps it had merely been gratitude for bringing him back to life. Now, he felt nothing but the warmth of friendship when he thought of her.

  He settled Ellie down upon the very bed where he had rested.

  She stirred, her lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. “Devon?”

  “I’m here.”

  Her pupils were wide, her eyes almost black. “Are you abandoning me?”

  “No.” He brushed back her hair. “Never.” He hoped that by bringing her to this pub on the hill, somewhat away from town, the powers would not reach her.

  She gave him the briefest nod, then her lashes drifted down once more. But she didn’t look any better than she had in the village. She was so pale, her skin was almost translucent and a fine sheen of sweat covered her foreh
ead, as if she had some human virus.

  “Devon,” Kipps called softly from the hall.

  Reluctantly, Devon left Ellie’s side, shutting the door as he reached the hall. “What is it?”

  “We need to talk.”

  He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t bloody well have time to sit around chatting like an old maid. Yet, he knew he had to do something to help Ellie. Devon nodded, following Kipps down the steps. The same steps he’d followed so many times with Ashley. The former pub room on the first floor still had the bar, but the space had been turned into a sort of parlor with two sofas and a couple wing backed chairs near the fireplace. John was seated in one of those chairs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he gazed into the cold hearth.

  Devon crossed his arms over his chest and braced his legs apart. He would uncover everything they knew, even if he had to beat it out of them. “All right, tell me all.”

  With a sigh, John stood and paced the large room. “An empath can absorb the powers of other supernatural beings.”

  “We know.”

  “Tis almost like a virus.” John paused, leaning against the mantel. “The power is spread intae her body through contact or close proximity. She absorbs the powers, until her body fights it off.”

  “I understand.”

  “She has had your powers then?” Kipps asked.

  “For a brief while. I wondered why she seemed to lose the ability.”

  John nodded. “Her body fights it off and builds up an immunity almost. But each supernatural being is unique, a unique virus. So just because she’s met one vampire, doesn’t mean she won’t absorb the powers from another.”

  “So why isn’t she fighting off our powers?” Kipps asked, settling in one of the chairs.

  John rubbed his bald head and sighed. “My bet is tae many. Tae many new viruses at once. Her body has become toxic, almost. She needs a good cleansing.”

  It made sense. She hadn’t gotten sick until they’d arrived here, this town with so many supernatural. Devon rubbed his hands over his weary face. It was his bloody fault.

  “And if she isn’t cleansed?” Kipps asked.