The Demon Hunter (2 page)

The urge to grab Cristian and Camile and flee was foremost in her irrational mind. Fortunately, rationality won out. She couldn’t, she
wouldn’t
leave. Devon’s soul depended on her. And as ridiculous as it might seem, the very fate of the world depended upon her.

“I’ll bind the door,” Camile said, “in case…”

In case the demon escaped. A definite worst case scenario.

If the demon escaped, that would mean Ashley and Cristian were dead. If the demon escaped, they knew Camile sure as hell wouldn’t be able to block him. If the demon escaped, his spirit would wreak havoc on an unsuspecting world of innocent, weak human beings. They couldn’t let that happen.

Cristian stepped into the corridor and pulled the sword from the scabbard at his back. Determined to put an end to the nightmare that had become her life, Ashley forced herself to step over the threshold, following the man she loved into the pit of hell.

Losing was not an option.

The scent of mildew and wet earth hit her like a fist to the chest. A familiar scent. Ashley glanced back one last time. Camile gave her a wavering smile as she shut the door with a thud, trapping them in complete darkness. A moment of panic overwhelmed her and she edged ever closer to Cristian, needing the reassurance of his warmth.

Fanfreakingtastic, it was really happening.

There was a soft click and a beam of light lit the path before them. In one hand Cristian held a sword, in his other hand a flashlight. Much less dramatic than the fire he’d been able to produce when he’d been immortal.

“Welcome to hell,” he said under his breath.

The trip down that tunnel was eerily similar to the last trip they’d taken. For many sleepless nights they’d searched for a way to save Devon. According to Camile, Aunt Rose had found the error in the last spell they’d used. This spell should work now.
Should.
The word didn’t reassure her like it was supposed to.

Ashley pushed aside her dour thoughts. “Do you think they’re here with us?” she asked. “Your angel friends?”

Cristian snorted. “Doubtful, they have more important things to worry about.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What was more important than saving the world? Ashley reached out, her fingertips brushing the damp, stone walls. The darkness, the energy, the lack of oxygen, all were destroying her sense of balance.

The floor sloped and her heartbeat accelerated. She knew that large, stone room would soon appear. Even six months later she remembered every detail of the place. A straight tunnel that gradually sloped, that soft drip of water from somewhere above, a slight turn to the right… They were getting closer.

“Ye remember the spell?” Cristian asked, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the silence.

“Yeah.” She’d memorized every word. As backup, she had the Latin spell written on a piece of paper and tucked in her back pocket, which, for some reason, made her feel like a student cheating on her final exams.

The tunnel flared wide, the rough walls giving way and fading into nothingness. Cristian paused, Ashley stopping beside him, her heart thundering so madly, surely he heard the unsteady beat. For one brief moment, the entire world stood still. Slowly, Cristian lifted the flashlight. The beam of light crawled across the glistening stone floor, bouncing off the massive domed area. A room so large, the light couldn’t reach the end.

But it wasn’t the end of the room that she searched for. The light hit the stone coffin, there in the middle of the room, and all thoughts vanished. Fear tasted bitter against her tongue. But overriding that fear was an anger so all-consuming, it left her trembling. It would all end here, now. The demon would no longer control their lives.

“Shall we?” Cristian started forward, no nervousness in his steady step.

On their previous visit the coffin had been split open, the lid in two and Devon’s lifeless body bleeding across the lid. Now, that coffin was closed, mended back together. Devon’s body was gone as if the incident had never happened. But his spirit was still in that tomb with the very demon intent on breaking free. They’d failed last time, they wouldn’t now.

Steeling her resolve, Ashley handed Cristian the sword and opened the pouch of crystals Camile had given her. “Let’s get this over with.”

Cristian pointed the flashlight to the floor. “Bind the area.”

She stepped back about ten feet and tilted the pouch. Salt, quartz and other tiny minerals tumbled from the bag. Slowly, Ashley walked around the coffin, leaving behind a trail of crystals. “
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti
,” she whispered, the sound of her footsteps disappearing up into the dark, domed ceiling.

At the same time, Cristian lifted both swords and murmured, “
Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum.”

Reaching her starting point, Ashley dropped the bag to the floor and pulled the cork from the bottle, her hands trembling with nerves and eagerness, desperate to see the situation through.

“Ready?” Cristian asked.

She nodded.

He handed her the flashlight and lifted the swords higher. “Show no fear.”

With a low growl, Cristian shoved the point of the blades into the middle of the coffin. The swords easily pierced the stone, like a knife through butter. For a moment, the world went still, but she knew better than to think nothing would happen.

A low creaking moan vibrated the very room, sending her off balance. Ashley shifted her feet apart; this time she’d be ready. Cristian yanked the swords from the lid and stepped back, his breathing harsh. All they could do was wait…wait while emotion bombarded her…fear, worry, eagerness.

A jagged line cracked up and down the coffin, separating the stone in two. Each side fell to the floor with a thud that shook the entire room. The flashlight fell from her hand, rolling across the ground and out of reach. Brilliant blue light burst from the opening swirling around her in a whirlwind that pulled at her clothing and hair. She was in the middle of a hurricane, the perfect storm.

It had begun.

Bracing herself, Ashley held tight to that little bottle of water.

“Be ready!” Cristian yelled, the wind tearing his words from her so she could barely hear him.

Be ready? Easy for him to say, he was the one carrying swords. Frantic, Ashley searched the light, looking for any indication of a human form. The blue glow danced around the room in waves that highlighted the paintings of mocking cherubs above.

“Do ye see anything?” Cristian called out, starting toward her.

Just as suddenly as it had arrived, the wind faded, leaving only a gentle breeze that wafted through the room. It was pretty, really, the blue light wavering upon the ceiling and walls. Almost as if they floated underwater. But she knew better than to get comfortable and enjoy the scenery.

“Nothing.” Ashley tightened her hold on the bottle. Had Devon escaped to Heaven already? Or had he been destroyed? “Cristian, maybe—”

Suddenly, the world exploded. Red light burst from the coffin, the force of the energy slamming Ashley against the wall. Hell had literally broken loose. She held tightly to the bottle even as her head crashed so hard against the wall that stars danced before her eyes. The rough rock scraped against the side of her face as she slumped toward the ground.

Heat, so much heat. The red light pulsed through the room, vibrant, harsh, hissing across her skin like a fiery snake. Their nightmare come to life once more. Ashley cried out, shifting, squirming, but the burning pain didn’t ease. Murmured voices grew from the light, words she didn’t understand, Latin coming from a demon. Time was racing by, their moment vanishing. She had to do something. Ashley stumbled to her feet, ignoring the pain of her sensitive flesh.

“They’re separating!” Cristian called out over the roar of wind. “Be ready!”

Gold and red light parted like the Dead Sea. Forgetting her fear and pain, Ashley froze, her heart slamming wildly. In that light, Devon’s soul cried out for help. He was there, she could sense him. She had to save him. An odd calmness swept through her very being.

“Ashley,” Cristian said, but he was barely visible through the blindingly brilliant light. “Throw the water!”

She lifted the bottle high.

From the light, two forms separated, twisting, turning through the air like separate, colorful tornados. She focused on the golden light, knew it was Devon’s soul. It was time. This might be their last chance. The sooner they got it over with, the better.

“
Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum,
” she whispered and dove into the storm.

Hitting the light was like hitting water. Her body slammed against the surface, hovering for one brief moment, then slowly…slowly sinking into the eye of the hurricane. Ashley hit the ground with a thud. She didn’t dare take the time to regain her bearings.

“Mother Earth and Father Moon, take Devon home where he belongs!” she demanded.

Ashley tossed the water high. The droplets were sucked into the whirlwind, spinning and twisting like crystals suspended around her. The howl grew, pounding against her eardrums, beating against her skull so she thought the bone would crack. With a cry, Ashley fell to her knees, the empty bottle pattering to the ground and rolling away. She’d done it, she’d done what she could for him.

“Ashley!” Vaguely she was aware of Cristian bursting through the light.

Warm, solid arms wrapped around her, pulling her to a hard body. Ashley sank into Cristian’s chest and held tight, her anchor in the storm. Just as suddenly as it had come, the light faded, taking with the roar of the wind.

Darkness fell.

The silence was overwhelming, ringing in her ears until she thought she’d go crazy. But she couldn’t move, didn’t want to leave Cristian’s embrace.

“It’s over,” he said, breathing softly against the side of her face.

Was it?

She scanned the darkness, seeing no movement, hearing not a sound. If it was over, why didn’t she feel relieved? Ashley swallowed hard and dared to pull away from Cristian’s solid presence.

It was easy. Too damn easy. If there was one thing she’d learn in life, it was that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

Slowly, she moved away from Cristian. The flashlight lay some feet away upon the floor, their only source of light, a brilliant beam that sliced through the darkness.

She was trembling, chilled, even though sweat trailed down the sides of her face. “He’s gone?”

“Aye. They’re both gone.”

She nodded, knowing that, at least, was true. She could sense no energy in the room. It was oddly still. Devon and the demon were gone. But gone
where
?

Cristian kissed her forehead. “It’s over.”

She wanted to believe him. How desperately she wanted to believe him, but deep in the pit of her belly she had the feeling it had only just begun.

Chapter 2

Cumbria, England

There was no doubt about it, Ellie’s life was a cosmic joke.

A bad sitcom that refused to end. And apparently nothing had changed since leaving the familiarity of the U.S. and taking a job in England. Another country, another culture… all the same. Ridiculousness followed her even across the wide expanse of the ocean. But this—this newest episode in the comedy of errors that was her life—definitely took the prize.

She thought about nudging Miranda, but decided that interrupting her coworker mid-speech would only draw unwanted attention from the small crowd gathered on the front lawn. Best to keep everyone oblivious as long as possible. Thank God for the cloak of night.

“And some say,” Miranda said to the clueless tour, “he still haunts the place even to this very day.”

There were a few
ooohs
and
aaahs
as the visitors mulled over the possibility of the former owner haunting the estate. If they only knew what really lurked behind them, those
ooohs
and
aaahs
would turn into screams of outrage, or even worse, horrified laughter.

Miranda’s speech finished, Eloise finally nudged her in the side and gave a discreet nod toward the man stumbling through the grass behind their group. Miranda followed Eloise’s gaze, confusion marring her elegant face. Spotting the man, her almond shaped eyes widened. The shock upon her face was priceless. Ellie looked away, giving a discreet cough to cover her laughter.

“Feel free to study the statue,” Miranda blurted to the crowd, pointing at the life-sized marble icon of the former owner that stood beside them.

“What the…” Miranda whispered.

“Hell?” Ellie added.

They so didn’t get paid enough to deal with this. As the visitors strolled around the grounds, dipping their fingers into the fountain in the middle of the garden, their shadows barely visible against the dark background of night, Eloise leaned close to Miranda, attempting to draw the least amount of attention she could. As if the huge Victorian gowns they wore didn’t draw enough attention. Lord Templeton insisted they dress in character to make the tours more authentic.

“Miranda, I’m not seeing things, right?” It was a legitimate question, for she had, upon occasion, seen things others didn’t. Her first foster family had called her insane. Perhaps, but she’d learned to accept her insanity, which was more than she could say for most people.