The Demon Hunter (31 page)

“That would explain why the town folks are missing. But they would have told us,” Camile muttered. “If they were planning to hightail it out.”

“Unless they didn’t leave of their own accord.”

For one moment, they merely stared at each other, the enormity of the situation weighing down around them. The battle was closer than even he’d imagined. Where the hell were Ashley and Cristian? Surely they weren’t dead. Wouldn’t he sense their demise?

“We’ve been through it before and we’ll get through it again,” he whispered, shifting his gaze to scan the shadowed fir trees. The pine needles were slick, but softened the sound of footfalls. Fortunately, as an angel his senses were better than a human’s. Better, even, than an animal’s. Something was out there. He might not be able to hear anything or see anything, but he could sense it.

“I don’t want to head straight up the lane,” he whispered. “They could be waiting to ambush.”

Camile tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “So what do we do?”

“We ambush them instead.” Devon stood and started through the forest, sticking to the shadows.

The low rumble of an approaching car surprised him. He froze, glancing back toward town. Camile paused beside him.

“It’s headed to the pub,” she whispered. “It could be Ashley and Cristian.”

She bolted toward the driveway. Devon grasped her arm, jerking her back. “We won’t be able to catch them and then we’ll be out in the open. Besides, it could be a trap. We need a spell.”

She frowned, touching the pouch around her neck. “I thought you didn’t trust me.”

He arched a brow. “Prove me wrong.”

She sighed, glancing nervously around the trees. “I can produce a protection spell, but it won’t last long, especially under this much pressure.”

Devon started toward the next tree, the next shadow, Camile following. “Anything will help.”

She nodded and reached into the pouch that hung at her neck. “
Praesidium.
” She sprinkled a line of salt alongside them, dropping tiny crystals as they inched their way toward the pub. “
Tutamen Tutaminis
.”

He could feel the shift in the air, knew the spell was working. But would it hold? And if so, how long? He still wasn’t sure if he could fully trust Camile, but at the moment, he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t transport and leave her behind if she was truly innocent.

“Stay to the shadows.” A shiver of unease raced over his body. Not even birds stirred in the forest. They, too, had left the area. “We’re being followed.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes large and luminous in the dusk. “By?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

A branch snapped. Not a vampire. They were too quiet. Something big, hulking… demon or another werewolf. He paused, his hands resting against the rough bark of the fir before him, and breathed deeply. No scent of death and rotting flesh, not a demon.

“Another werewolf, I believe. Maybe two.”

“A pack?” Camile whispered.

He didn’t respond, for he feared that was exactly what they were encountering. He glanced up toward the tops of the trees. It wasn’t dark yet. The weak afternoon sun managed to send beams of light through the trees. There was no full moon, which meant they were harnessing power from some
where
or some
thing
in order to change. The demon.

“Concentrate on the spell.”

She nodded and began to mumble in Latin once more. Through the trees, just above the hill, he could see the pub. Was Ellie still outside practicing? An open target? He had to resist the urge to run to her. If he left the woods, he’d be walking into a trap. He knew it.

A low growl vibrated from behind them. Shite, too late. Devon spun around just in time to see a furry beast speeding toward them, a blur of movement that crushed through the branches and vegetation.

“Run!” Devon demanded.

But Camile didn’t budge, merely stepped closer to him, grasping onto his arm. The wolf hit the magical barrier and fell back on his haunches. He lifted his lips into a snarl that showed large canines. Devon could see the air bending, knew the spell wouldn’t last long. A quick glance at Camile told him she would be of no further help. Sweat gathered on her brow as she whispered words of Latin, attempting to keep the wolf at bay.

“Let him through,” he said. “Drop the spell.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. The crunch of leaves and twigs alerted him to another presence. Devon snapped his head toward the left. Glowing yellow eyes peered at him through vegetation. Another beast. Two, but he could tell by the howling in the distance that more were coming, and they were coming fast.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yes, lower it.”

“
Deleo
,” she cried out.

He saw the air bend and suddenly give way. The beasts felt it too. The first werewolf launched himself at Devon. Devon threw a fireball, hitting the animal just as the second wolf attacked. Too late. He felt the brush of fur against his arm, then sharp claws scrapped against his side, the cuts so deep the pain quickly gave way to a numbing sensation.

Devon gritted his teeth, falling to his knees as warm blood dripped down his side.

“Oh God, you’re hurt!” Camile fell beside him. “How can they be so powerful without a full moon? I don’t understand. What the hell does this mean?”

He pressed his fingers to the wound, feeling the flap of skin. “It means the demon has arrived.”

A low growl vibrated through the woods. More werewolves.

“Shite,” Devon muttered.

“Don’t worry, I have everything in hand.” Camile wrapped her arm around Devon’s waist and dug into the pouch around her neck. She tossed tiny crystals into the air. They caught the light and sparkled like raindrops. “
Effluo
!”

Suddenly, the world disappeared.

Chapter 18

“Ye all right?” Cristian asked as they stepped from the vehicle and surveyed the pub.

Ashley nodded, but she didn’t look well. She looked ill, her face pale, her eyes flashing with anger and deep down, a horror he knew she’d never be able to forget. They’d driven for hours, yet she’d barely spoken a word. He worried about her.

He’d seen disgusting, heart-wrenching things before, situations even worse than what had happened in that castle. Yet, never before had his father been responsible. The old man had truly gone off the deep end.

Cristian felt oddly numb about the realization. But then, really, he’d lost his father long ago, hadn’t he? It was difficult to believe the man had once been almost normal. He knew what those murders had been… a message to him, his only living son. The very son who had betrayed him. Yes, he knew deep down, his father had left those bodies for him to discover.

“Camile’s back.” Ashley nodded toward the car sitting alongside the drive.

Cristian frowned. Something was off. Not a soul was in town when they’d driven through the outskirts on the way here. The phone lines were down. The last call they’d received had been from Camile when she’d reached Devon’s home, reporting that he had been there. But that had been days ago. Where the hell was everyone?

He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, focusing on any lingering abilities he might have retained since becoming human. His father wasn’t here now… but he was close.

“It’s quiet,” Ashley said softly, coming to stand next to him. “Too quiet.”

Dark clouds hovered in the distance, as if waiting to attack. The air was hot. Stale. “But someone’s here,” he added, scanning the windows. The curtains, which had been closed, were now tied back. And the aura of other supernatural beings hovered over the house.

“Do you think they found Devon?”

“We’ll find out.” He hoped they had, for everyone’s sake. They’d need all the help they could get.

They started up the drive toward the door, their feet crunching over the gravel. No birds chirped by the fountain. They’d lost their wildlife, another sign his father was nearby.

“Well, no one’s attacking us. That’s a good sign.” Ashley paused as they reached the front stoop. “I feel like I should knock on my own door.”

Cristian had no such qualms and pushed the door wide. It looked normal enough. Yet, he could sense other’s in the building. The place was lived in. They’d painted walls, placed furniture in comfortable positions. They’d attempted to make it look as inviting as possible. Yet, there was always something there… like a ghost that would not leave, hovering in the background. Until they got rid of his father once and for all, the pub would never be a true home. He so badly wanted a life with Ashley.

“Hello?” Ashley called out, her voice echoing through the foyer.

The soft thud of footsteps sounded from the kitchen, coming closer… closer. Cristian narrowed his eyes, his hands curling at his sides. A female, young, by the speed, yet her footsteps were unfamiliar. Cristian reached behind him for his sword, only to realize he’d left it in the car. Damn, but his instincts were off since becoming human.

“Umm… hi.” A petite woman paused in the hallway. Her hair black, her eyes dark, her origin of Asian descent, although her accent was Northern English. “Can I help you?”

“You’re in my house,” Ashley said with a laugh. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking?”

She flushed. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m still trying to figure this all out. You must be Ashley?” She glanced at him. “And Cristian?”

He nodded, attempting to read her aura. He felt no magic coming from her. His body relaxed, somewhat.

She hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “They’re out back training. They’ll certainly be happy to see you.”

“They?” Cristian inquired.

She nodded. “Rose and Ellie. Not sure where Camile and Devon went.”

“Devon is here?” Ashley sank against him, her relief almost palpable. Even now her feelings toward the man annoyed Cristian, although he didn’t dare let her know. He wasn’t about to get into a brawl when they had more important things to fight about.

The woman smiled. “I’m Miranda, by the way. Ellie’s friend.”

“Who the hell is Ellie?” Cristian asked.

Ashley frowned up at him and Miranda flushed in obvious discomfort. There were times he forgot to gentle his nature. Humans, in particular, took everything to heart. But hell, he didn’t care who he offended at this point.

“Cristian,” Ashley warned.

“I’m bloody tired of not knowing what’s going on.” He was tired in general. Being a human was more difficult than he’d expected, although he wouldn’t dare admit as much to Ashley. Tiptoeing around people and situations. Forced to discuss and defend his actions. Bloody hell, he actually had to sleep at night.

But he didn’t want Ashley to feel guilty and God’s truth, he wouldn’t change his decision. But he had a feeling Ashley understood anyway. Even now she rested her hand on his lower back, rubbing him gently as if he was a damn housecat in need of comfort. Shite, if her touch didn’t make him feel better. Next they’d be sharing a box of Kleenex while crying over some chick flick.

“Ellie is…
Ellie
.”

“Well, that’s helpful,” Cristian muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Perhaps we should go out back,” Ashley said, fighting her smile. She thought he was acting the spoiled brat, but she never took his moodiness seriously. Lord, he loved it when her eyes sparkled like that. Almost immediately his bad mood disappeared.

“Might be a better idea,” Miranda muttered, looking thoroughly relieved to be rid of them.

Ashley gave the woman a kind smile, having much more patience for her nonsensical drivel than he had, and headed toward the kitchen, Cristian following.

The house looked the same, yet felt different in some way. Devon’s damn aura had invaded once more. Over a hundred years ago the bastard had blamed him because his wife had been overly friendly. He and Devon had made peace, but it didn’t mean he wanted to be the man’s best friend. And he sure as bloody hell didn’t appreciate Ashley’s attachment to the angel.

Yep, best to take care of good ole’ dad and they could all go along their merry,
separate
ways. And once dad was gone, they could have a life… a real life. The image of children had even popped to mind on several occasions. Sweet little lasses with Ashley’s fierce determination and hazel eyes. Lads with her loyalty.

Ashley shoved the back door wide and stepped into the garden. A young woman stood in the middle of the manicured lawn, Rose across from her.

“Yer not concentrating!” the old witch snapped.

“I can’t,” the woman growled back, bringing a grin to Cristian’s lips.

She had backbone. He liked her immediately. Ellie, he assumed, but the real question was, what the hell
was
she? Her power practically vibrated around them. She was shorter in stature than Ashley, but about the same age. Her golden brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her heart-shaped face fierce and frowning, sweat trailing down her forehead. The pretty young lady was doing her best to glare down Rose. She had no idea that the old witch wouldn’t be beaten.

“Hello,” Ashley called out, interrupting their squabble.