Dark Bound, Page 2

  However, my survival came at a steep price—the death of the archangel Vedriel.

  Yes. We killed an archangel. I cringed whenever I thought about it. The feeling of helplessness, of being trapped and forced to kill or be killed, swept through me. I hated that he’d made me into an angel killer.

  The blessed, sacred, perfect archangels were supposed to be righteous and protect us mere mortals from evil. But it was like Tyrius had said; not all archangels and angels were good. Turns out Vedriel was very, very bad. And his bad-ass self had ultimately been his demise.

  No one else knew we’d killed the archangel Vedriel. Only me, Tyrius, Jax, Danto and the Greater demon Degamon were there. We’d made a pact that early morning not to tell a soul about what we’d done. We needed to keep this quiet. The angel-born council would never understand, and it would just complicate matters.

  I doubted Degamon would tell the council, but we still didn’t know all the details of Vedriel’s plans to eliminate the Unmarked. Who else was involved? He had said other archangels were part of this scheme. Maybe Vedriel was just the errand boy and the real architect was still out there.

  Sooner or later, the Legion would figure out what happened to their archangel and then they would come after us… after me.

  In the few months since, I’d slept poorly. I’d been on edge, thinking a legion of angels was about to pound me. And yet, I was still here, back at my old job, hunting demon scum.

  Father Thomas gave me this new mark after a series of unexplainable deaths at a New York City law firm. The eyewitness reports of strange slops of skin-like substances at the crime scenes had caught the priest’s attention—demon goo. A shifter always shed its skin after it killed its victim and took its shape.

  To a Hunter, it was an easy red flag and stupid, but hey, most demons were stupid.

  I sighed through my nose and pivoted around a smiling Asian couple. I couldn’t refuse any work. I had five more days to come up with my grandmother’s debt or the bank would take her house. I’d been working nonstop—day and night—for two days since I found out about the bank’s threat. Since then, I’d taken every job the priest threw at me and a few jobs from my own personal website—two closet demons cases (yes, closet monsters were real) and a gremlin that had been terrorizing an elderly couple by smashing the pipes in their basement and causing it to flood. I’d even drafted a résumé with Tyrius’s help and applied to fifty different human jobs online, from data entry clerk to housecleaning.

  But I’d heard nothing yet. Without experience or the education to back me up, the humans weren’t interested. Hell, I didn’t blame them. Even I wouldn’t hire me.

  Hunting was my only option. And I would take every goddamn job that came my way, and then some. Whatever it took.

  Still, it wasn’t enough.

  I’d barely made seven hundred dollars. And with my five hundred in the bank, I was still over eighteen thousand dollars short.

  Damn. At the rate the priest was paying me, I needed to hunt fifty more shifter demons. Double damn.

  The shifter demon took a sharp left on 8th Avenue. After sliding my hand on the hilt of my soul blade, I headed across the street after it. Show time.

  The shifter demon had taken on the shape of a beautiful young black woman, Claire Beaumont to be exact. The body of the lawyer had been found yesterday morning in her apartment, next to the slop of skin. The shifter demon would keep the shape of the young lawyer until it began to tire and needed to replenish its demon energy with its next victim.

  Demon-Claire sashayed her way towards a pizza joint. Men turned at her approach, their eyes on the pretty woman. My skin pricked as the demon flicked its black eyes across the mass of men still staring at it. Crap.

  The demon smiled seductively as it approached a tall, handsome dark man in a suit that barely contained his muscles. He smiled back and stood, breaking apart from the others, too close to the dark alleyway behind the restaurant.

  My heart pounded in my ears. I walked faster.

  The demon stroked the dark man’s arm and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. I didn’t need to hear the exchange. I saw the desire flicker in the man’s face and knew exactly what the demon had said. The shifter smiled as it pushed the mortal man back playfully towards the alley, back into darkness—

  “Claire! There you are!” I grabbed its left arm while pressing my soul blade against its side. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” I said, pushing my blade a little harder. Seeing the ire in the man’s face, I added, “Sorry, my friend’s had a little too much to drink. Bye now.”

  I hurled the demon with me into the alley. I’d barely made five steps before it feigned a trip, taking me by surprise.

  “Angel bitch!” The demon elbowed me in the ribs and leaped away, sprinting like an Olympian.

  “Oh, hell no.” My boots scraped the pavement as I shot after it into the dark alley. “Come back here!” I yelled, stunned that the shifter could run that fast in six-inch heels. That took some serious skill.

  It pulled right and disappeared behind a metal garbage bin. Adrenaline spiked through me as I pushed my legs faster. There was no way I was letting my mark get away. Especially now that it had seen my face. It might take on my shape just to piss me off. I wouldn’t take that chance.

  The stench of spoiled meat and rotten fruit hit me like a slap in the face as I dashed past the bin—

  A leg darted from under the container. It caught me on my shin and I pitched forward onto the hard pavement, scraping my knees and the side of my face. Ouch.

  Demon-Claire was on me before I hit the ground. A sudden blow slammed my back as human teeth sank into my neck. Before I could catch my breath, the demon grabbed a fistful of my hair and smacked my head against the ground. Black spots exploded behind my eyes as I cried out in pain. This was not going well at all.

  In one smooth, mighty movement, I bucked wildly and felt it release my hair. Without stopping, I rolled over and kicked out hard, my boot connecting with the demon’s chest, and it stumbled back.

  I shot to my feet and felt my forehead. “Great. Now that’s going to bruise. Do you know how hard it is to hide a bruise with makeup without making it look caked on? VERY HARD.”

  The shifter demon spat, its black eyes wild and consumed with hatred. “I’m not going back. I’d rather die than go back to the Netherworld.”

  “That’s the point.” I pushed my jacket back, showing off my additional blades. “You know, the part of you dying. It’s why I’m here, demon.” I grinned when I saw the shifter’s eyes locking with the death blade on my weapons belt.

  What can I say? I got the feels whenever a demon spotted the death blade at my hip. It made me all warm and tingly inside to see the confusion cross their marred features. It was almost as exhilarating as the thrill of the hunt. Almost.

  I gave the demon my best pageant smile. “Yes. That’s a death blade. And before you ask, no, I’m not a demon. I’m something else. But I’m feeling super generous tonight. I’ll give you the choice.” I cocked my hip. “Soul blade or death blade? Which one do you want me to use to kill you? Hmmm? What will it be, demon?”

  The shifter snarled, twisting its human guise to look more and more animal than human. It stood with its fists at its sides, glaring at me. “I’m never going back. Never!”

  “Then you should have thought about that before you started killing the innocent. You did this to yourself, shifter. I am going to send you back.”

  The shifter hissed, its black eyes wild, and lunged.

  It came at me in a whirl of limbs, spit, and hair. But I was ready.

  With my muscles locked tightly, the night air whistled as I gave a mighty swing of my blade. Without pause, the demon spun, evading the killing thrust of my blade. But as it came around, closing the distance to deliver its own strike, I drew my weapon back, slicing across its neck.

  With a howl, the demon stumbled back, black blood spilling down its neck and over its chest.
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  I smiled at the fear in its eyes. “See? Told you I was going to kill you. Stop fussing and let me just do it. It’ll be quick. I promise.”

  “Help!” screamed the demon in a perfect imitation of a human female in fear. It looked at me and smiled before yelling again. “Help me! Please! Someone help me!”

  “Shut up.” I looked over my shoulder to the street and my stomach churned. A silhouette of a man had stopped at the sound of the shifter’s screams and turned his attention to us.

  Shit. Was it the same man the shifter had spoken to before? Was he looking for it? There was no way I could kill the demon now, not with the human staring. There were rules about this sort of thing. Not that I cared for rules, but I knew I couldn’t kill the shifter with a human watching. If he called the cops, I was in for it. I’d have to leave—without my mark or my money.

  “Help! She’s trying to kill me!” wailed the demon, tears now spilling down its face and adding to the dramatic effect.

  “Damn you, demon.” I looked back over my shoulder and a mixture of surprise and relief coursed through me when I noticed the man was gone. “Ha. It didn’t work. Better luck next time.”

  The shifter lost its smile and threw itself at me in a fit of rage. It moved faster than I’d thought possible, and before I could raise my blade, it crashed into me. The two of us tumbled to the ground. My blade was still grasped in my hand as we rolled over, each trying to gain the advantage.

  “Not going back! Never!”

  The shifter began biting me with its human teeth. Bile rose in the back of my throat and I was surprised at the pain I felt. With its superhuman strength, it tried to muscle me onto my stomach, and I winced at the fetid breath on my face. I struggled to get an opening with my blade, but the demon lashed out and scratched at my face and eyes. It was like wrestling a crazed cat, the demon hissing and spitting as it bit and scratched at me in a fit of demented panic.

  This demon was really starting to piss me off. Anger spiked in me. With a surge of strength, I heaved the demon back and staggered to my feet.

  “It ends now.” Raising my soul blade to the creature’s chest, I moved forward, angling my weapon for the killing strike—

  Bone popped. Muscles tore. An arrowhead perforated the demon’s chest. A look of surprise warped its features and I stopped cold at the sight of blood I hadn’t put there.

  “Not going back,” said the demon as it cupped the arrowhead with its hands. “Not going—”

  The rest of its words died at the impact of another arrowhead bursting through its mouth from the back of its skull. The demon teetered on the spot, its black eyes fixed on me, and then exploded.

  Not ash that could easily be wiped off with a brush of a hand like the rest of the demons, but a spill of wet, putrid bits of skin and yellow liquid.

  I gagged as the slop hit me in the face, neck, and chest, and I shivered as I tasted carrion. I was covered in its wasted slime, its demon goo. I spat and kept spitting until I thought I’d gotten all of it out, hoped I’d gotten it all out. That was truly disgusting. I almost threw up when I saw the slime on my jacket steaming in the cool air.

  Just as I heard the shifting of feet, someone stepped out of the shadows, a bow in his hand. No. Not a someone. A faerie.

  3

  I hissed under my breath. Damn. I never felt him coming. I was either losing my touch or the shifter guts were affecting my demon senses. Or maybe I was just having a really bad night.

  Every time I spotted a faerie, images of Tyrius skewered on a stick being barbecued flicked in my mind’s eye, and I hated them even more. I couldn’t help it. Any creature that ate cat or dog was my enemy. Period.

  I’d always felt something viler and more sinister whenever I was in the presence of a faerie, a darkness I couldn’t explain. There was a wild, demonic energy about them, unlike any other half-breed, and it always made my pulse quicken and my creep-o-meter shoot sky high.

  This one was tall, very tall, making my five-foot-nine-inch frame look petite next to the gangly bastard. Faeries and vampires were distant cousins in the half-breed world, having a similar demon heritage, but where vampires were gifted with good looks, charm, and sensual grace, faeries were cold and gaunt-looking, like starved heroin addicts.

  The male faerie attached his bow to the quiver strapped behind his back. His long legs moved with a business-like purpose as he deliberately stalked toward me, his steps as silent as a cat. How ironic. I’d always hated that about faeries, the way they could sneak up on people without being heard.

  The smell of candy canes and rotten eggs clogged up my nose. Perhaps thirty years old, his blond hair was tied back from his face, making his cheek bones stand out sharply against his pale skin and revealing his pointed ears. He wore a long, black coat with matching shirt and pants and carried two curved daggers sheathed along his baldric, each long and deadly like a beast’s claw. A series of tattoos peeked out from the collar of his shirt, up and around his neck—faerie symbols. His eyes were deep brown and dangerous, surprisingly dark for a faerie with such pale skin and fair hair. He carried his weight with a pompous sort of dignity.

  I hated him on the spot.

  His gaze traveled over me to the death blade at my hip. I would have smiled at the arch in his brows, but I was too pissed off. When his eyes met mine, he gave me a look like I should be thanking him. Hell no.

  I straightened my shoulders, gripped my soul blade, and pushed myself onto the tips of my toes, trying to look taller. “You just stole my mark and you ruined perfectly good clothes. Who’s going to pay for that? You?”

  “I did you a favor, Hunter,” the faerie intoned, its voice scratchy and annoyingly high pitched for a male. “Looks like the shifter would have finished you off if I hadn’t intervened. I saved you.”

  Peeved, I almost snarled. “You had no business intervening, faerie.” His eyes narrowed at my tone. “As I recall, faeries don’t do favors for non-faeries. And they don’t mix with Hunter business either.”

  I threw out my senses, scanning for any familiar, cold, demonic energies. My skin pricked at the shift in the air, like tiny electrical currents. More faeries. I was willing to bet there were four or five more hiding in the alley, no doubt pointing their arrows at me. They always moved in packs, like werewolves. Did I mention how much I hated them?

  Cold rain fell around me, light but steady, and my pulse quickened. “Quit staring at me like you’re about to ask for my number, ‘cause that’s never going to happen.” I gritted my teeth. “What do you want?” The faerie’s dark eyes were starting to creep me out. I just wanted him gone so I could go home and shower before the demon goo penetrated my skin like a cream. I’d never get the smell out then.

  The faerie’s pompous expression never changed. “I’m here on behalf of Queen Isobel. She requests an audience with you, Rowyn Sinclair.”

  “Ha-ha.” I laughed, but inside I flinched. I didn’t like this faerie knowing my name. I shifted my weight, my eyes never leaving his. Now this was getting interesting. “What does the queen of the Dark Court want with me?”

  I’d never met or seen the faerie queen of the Dark Court, but I’d heard the rumors, just like everyone else. She had acquired her throne by removing the dark faerie king and taking his place. She ate him, or so the story went. Yikes.

  The queen of the Dark Court’s story was legend and nightmare among our kind. She was the most lethal faerie on this side of the northern continent. She was powerful and held more magic than most faeries, which she used to slaughter humans and any half-breed who dared defend them.

  I knew she had set up her lair in Mystic Quarter with a legion of vicious faeries by her side. Blondie here must be one of them. I’d also heard that she liked to keep human men as her sexual slaves, their minds too weak and corrupt to know the difference between glamour and the real world.

  But the Gray Council had put a stop to her slaughtering humans five hundred years ago. After centuries of conflict, a truce was
forged between the half-breeds and the angel-born, and the Gray Council was created. It consisted of one member from each half-breed court—vampires, faeries, werewolves and witches—and it also includes the leaders of the angel-born.

  All half-breeds were allowed to live in the mortal world and govern themselves if they followed one strict rule—never harm a human. They forged their own councils and their own courts. But a truce was a fragile thing, some longed for the return of the old ways, the dark days before the angels interfered and created the angel-born to keep the peace and watch over the mortal world.

  And when any of these half-breeds stepped out of line, it was my job to hunt them.

  “The queen requires your services, Hunter,” said the faerie, his face twitching into something between a smile and a grimace.

  I raised my brows. “Really? A job? Bull.”

  The faerie snickered. “I wouldn’t be here wasting my time talking to a Hunter otherwise,” he said belligerently. “Trust me. I’d rather be anywhere else but here right now.” His voice was dripping with indignation at having to deal with little moi.

  My pulse quickened. I didn’t like to be cornered and surprised by half-breeds, even less by faeries. Worse, I smelled like a week-old garbage bin left in the hot sun.

  If he’d wanted to kill me, he and his goons would have tried putting a few arrows in my chest already. Maybe he really was here on the queen’s business. Curious, I gave him another once-over. He looked like he despised me about as much as I despised him, but I wanted to know why the queen of the faeries had sought me out.

  “What kind of job?” I asked, shoving my jacket back so that my weapons were in full view, just in case he wanted to admire them again.

  The male faerie kept quiet and I could tell by his stern reserve that he wouldn’t tell me. He just stood there, eyeing me like I might be tasty to eat. Swell.

  “Listen,” I said, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes. “If it’s not a paying job, I’m not interested. As you can see—” I lifted my arms in a show of demon guts, “—I’m quite busy at the moment. I don’t do freebies. You can tell your faerie lady to forget it—”