Dark Strike, page 22
Fury flashed in his eyes, and he threw himself at me.
I moved instinctively and without fear, blocking and stepping forward to land a sidekick in his middle. He grunted in pain and crumbled to the ground.
“Rowyn! Look!” I heard Layla cry out.
Fear tightened my gut. I spun around, thinking a necromancer was behind me. Instead, I saw Layla, standing with her high heeled boot on the chest of a fallen necromancer, her whip tightly wrapped around his neck. His face was turning blue.
I beamed at her. “Attagirl, Layla.”
She giggled, her eyes widening. “I should have brought the blue whip too.”
Blue whip? The woman was nuts, but she loved her toys.
The muffled sounds of a large number of feet stomping the ground along with the grinding of joints reached me, followed by the unmistakable stench of rot.
With my weapon in hand I spun around. “Great. Someone managed to summon the dead.”
A handful of zombies shambled forward, leaving long trails of dirt and slops of entrails behind them. They moved together in a rhythmic beat, and for a second I felt like I was in Michael Jackson’s Thriller video. Too weird.
“They look fresh,” shouted Layla. Her smile was infectious as she stepped off the either unconscious or very dead necromancer.
Yeah. They did look fresh.
“Gareth, behind you!” I shouted when one of the zombies, with half its face rotted off, grabbed the elf from behind and he rocked back.
Teeth bared, Gareth took the zombie’s arm. A soft pull and a savage twist, and the arm came popping off. Using the arm as a weapon, the elf swung it and ripped the zombie’s head right off.
“Wait for me!” howled Layla as she threw herself into the horde of zombies. She licked her lips before sending her whip out with a crack, slicing the head off the nearest zombie.
In a blur of black, Danto appeared. His black eyes intent, he snarled and thrashed at the zombies’ heads with his claws, and the headless zombies fell like pins.
In the corner of my eye, a female necromancer ran from the battle, heading toward the exit.
Oh no, you don’t.
I charged her. She saw me and drew a knife from the inside of her robe.
“That’s not going to save you,” I told her as I positioned myself, feet planted, ready to strike.
With her face a mix of fear and anger, she lunged with her knife, her movements clumsy and untrained. Lost in battle fury, she swung at me, her method desperate.
I sprang sideways to avoid being cut and kicked out for a leg sweep. I caught her and she went down. I kicked the knife from her hand and she cried out in pain. Oops. I might have broken her wrist. My bad.
“Need help?” Lance bounded over.
“Yeah. Watch her.” I didn’t want to have to kill her if I didn’t need to.
“I got it.” The white dog bared his teeth and sat next to her.
“Good boy.” I took the time to look over the scene. Mounds of decapitated and braindead zombies littered the ground around the cemetery. Father Thomas and his priests were busy wrapping zip ties around the surviving necromancers’ wrists with the help from Alan and his team of angel-born.
“Best night ever!” sang Layla as she came forward, fastening her whip on her hip. “Not one of us got hurt. Can you believe that? Those necromancers had nothin’ on us. You did it, Rowyn.”
“No. We did it. All of us.”
It was true. We did it. We’d transcended all barriers and fought together as a team. With determination, we’d surmounted the greatest threat. Together, we could accomplish anything.
“What happens to the necromancers now?” asked Layla.
I stared at Father Thomas who was now in conversation with Alan. “It’s up to the Council. Prison? I don’t know. All I care is that they’re off the streets for good.”
A loud growl pulled my attention to my left. Tyrius the black panther was hunched next to Lord Krull. The old necromancer was dragging his bony ass across the ground with his hands, trying to get away from the big cat.
“I’ve got one more thing to do,” I told her as Danto joined her. I made my way toward Tyrius.
The black panther’s lips were an inch away from the necromancer’s face, which was wet with sweat and twisted in fear.
“Fear looks good on you,” I told him.
“Get your beast off of me!” shouted the old man.
I grinned. “Sucks, doesn’t it? To be without power. Being weak. Being afraid. Now you know how those people felt when you stole their souls.”
The necromancer grimaced, and his voice took on the edge of a sneer. “I am the Death Walker. I yield the power to Master Life and Death itself.”
“Not anymore,” I said.
“Death is a part of you too, Rowyn Sinclair,” said the necromancer, his mouth twisted in a snarl. “You Hunt and then you kill. You take lives, just as we take lives. There is no difference. A life is a life. You are just like us. You play with death.”
I shook my head. “I’d like to think of myself as more of a badass with some sass,” I told him. “I could kill you right now, but I choose not to. Maybe it’s the wrong choice, but it’s still my choice.”
“You’re going to regret this,” spat the necromancer.
I looked into his eyes and smiled. “Not today,” I said, and then I punched him hard on his left temple.
Lord Krull’s eyes widened, his mouth opened in a moan, and then he collapsed in a jumble of limbs and black cloth.
CHAPTER 33
It was the perfect day for a wedding. The sky was a cloudless periwinkle blue, the sun high above me, and rays of sunlight slipped through the leaves of the giant oak trees that framed my gran’s backyard. Their leaves rustled, and a warm August breeze brought forth the smell of rosebushes and freshly cut grass.
The sound of soft jazz music slipped over the happy chatter outside the pavilion tent and I smiled. It was a glorious day. And I couldn’t have been happier.
A few hours ago, my gran’s backyard had been frantic with last-minute details and rushing about. She’d been red in the face, a glass of white wine in her hand, as she barked out orders.
It had to be perfect.
Forget the idea of a traditional white dress. Layla wore a blood-red gothic gown with a tight corset bodice and layers of lace and silk that swooped around her. Her dark hair was piled atop of her head in an intricate crown braid, a weave of red ribbons woven through it. She looked magical. She looked like a queen.
Danto, well, he had to match of course. He wore a red suit of the finest silk, which glistened in the sun and rippled like water. He’d made the effort to button up his shirt, but his toes peered from under the cuff of his pants. He was true to himself.
Their hands were interlaced, and they hadn’t let each other go since the ceremony had ended.
Yup. Layla and Danto had finally tied the knot—in my gran’s backyard.
I always thought outdoor weddings were the most beautiful. It was a small wedding, with only family and friends, which was perfect since my gran’s backyard could only fit maybe twenty people comfortably. Throw in six baal demons and a white German Shepard, and it was a full house.
Once Layla and Danto had given us the good news, my grandmother had offered to marry the pair and I’d helped her fill out the ordination application online so she could officiate the wedding. A church wedding was out of the question, for obvious reasons—the most obvious being that both had demonic blood in their veins. It hadn’t bothered Layla one bit, as she’d much preferred this type of outdoorsy wedding.
Father Thomas was congratulating the happy couple. He’d been invited, of course, and stood handsome as ever in his usual black priest ensemble.
Four weeks had passed since we’d put an end to the necromancer threat. As far as we knew, the soulless, or rather the victims, didn’t make mention of their trip into Death or the necromancers. Perhaps, without having demonic blood in their veins like Gareth, the humans didn’t remember what had happened to them. Or so it would seem. Or maybe they didn’t want to remember and just wanted to put everything behind them.
The National Guard had been called off that same night, as the so-called infected had all miraculously healed. No traces of the virus. Granted, they still had to get checked over at different New York hospitals, but waiting for hours to see a doctor was a hell of a lot better than not having a life at all.
Laughs echoed around the garden and I looked over to see Kaia riding on Lance’s back, squealing in delight as she cried, “Yee-haw!” She was just like her dad, this one. I laughed. The baal kids were taking turns riding the poor angel like a horse. But Lance didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the dog looked happy and content.
Tyrius and the angel dog had bonded over the past few weeks. They’d fought together, battling the same enemy, and now, truth be told, they looked like besties.
My heart almost broke from happiness, and I blinked fast so I wouldn’t tear up.
“So, people,” Tyrius sprawled on the grass next to me and Gareth. “When are you two going to tie the knot?”
I nearly spat out my wine. I took a careful swallow, aware that Gareth was smiling. “Um… what?” My heart was racing, and I wished it would stop doing that.
Tyrius snorted, his whiskers twitching in a smile. “You heard me. You two lovebirds are made for each other. The next logical step is… you know…” he angled his head towards Layla and Danto. “That. I mean, I got hitched.” He waved a paw at Kora whose white fur seemed to glow in the sun as she waved back. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Hmmm.” And I remembered the baal not telling me he was married for years. But I thought it best not to bring that up.
Gareth’s smile widened, and I wished he’d stop that.
Tyrius gave me a look that said he wasn’t done with this conversation. “Well. Gotta go. Lance promised the kids a two-legged race later.”
“How’re you going to manage that?” I laughed. “You all have four legs.”
The cat beamed. “It’s a secret. If you wanna know, you’ll just have to watch.” And with that, the Siamese cat bounded away across the yard to his family.
I felt eyes on me and knew my face was probably the color of Layla’s dress. “What?”
The elf’s smile was radiant, the kind that made my stomach do serious flip-flops. “I’ve never seen you in a dress before. You’re beautiful.”
Oh… demon balls. Why did he have to say that? Now I was all mushy and I knew I had a goofy smile plastered on my face.
I looked down at the new dress I’d bought for the wedding. It was a pale pink chiffon halter dress that fit snuggly over my curves and flowed to my ankles. I’d picked it out with Layla’s help. We all knew I had about as much about fashion sense as I knew about rocket science. I never thought I’d be caught dead in a dress. But as soon as I’d slipped it on, I knew this was the one for me.
Now the only one who could get me out of it was Gareth.
I looked into the elf’s eyes and opened my mouth to say something sexy—
“Gareth! I need you!” came my grandmother’s wail from across the backyard.
Gareth never stopped smiling as he got up. “I’ll get you some more wine,” he said and took my empty glass from my hand. Then, when I thought he was about to leave, he bent down and kissed me.
It wasn’t a fierce kiss with a fiery passion or a hurried one. No, this kiss was full of love, compassion, and a promise. And when he pulled away, I thought I was going to burst into tears. Thank the souls I could control myself.
I watched the sexy elf waltz over to my gran who was in charge of the wine. I didn’t know who put her in charge. Probably her.
I’d never really given any thought to marrying Gareth. Okay, yes, that was a total lie. I had thought about it a few times. Still, I didn’t need a ring or a piece of paper to justify or recognize what I felt in my heart.
Who knew? Maybe one day, it’d be me in a dress in my gran’s backyard, saying yes to the very best of men.
One day.
SPELLS & ASHES
CHAPTER 1
The demon was fast. Damn fast.
It had dragged me all through the streets of Upper East Side Manhattan, snaking through the backwoods of Central Park to finally arrive in Hell’s Kitchen.
Groaning, I forced my legs to keep working, my lungs starving for air as I tried to ignore the cramp pinching at my side.
I didn’t get paid enough for this crap.
This would be my tenth exorcism this month. No, I’m not talking about heads spinning while spewing out fountains of pea soup. That’s Hollywood. This is real life, and demonic possession is very real.
It happened when a demon hitched a ride inside a person’s body, making them do obscene things and act out of character, all the while sucking on their lifeforce until they eventually dropped dead.
There had been a sudden influx of demons the past two weeks in New York City. Rumors had it that an unusually large Rift—a tear in the Veil, the dividing line between humans and the Netherworld demons—had opened, and thousands of demons had escaped through it.
It had been a busy month for the city of New York in terms of demon parasites, but that didn’t mean the city was free of other demons. Hell no. There were a lot of creepier crawlers and things far worse than your average body-snatching demon bastards. Still, tonight I was graced with the presence of yet another demon.
There was no way in hell a fourteen-year-old human girl could run that fast for so long without having to stop and catch her breath. The demon inside her was running her down, pushing her body to an extreme no human could endure. It had stolen her body and now ran it like a puppet on strings, feeding on her lifeforce. If I didn’t get to her soon, the girl’s body would collapse and she would die, leaving the demon to consume her soul and then human-hop into another poor bastard. Typically possessions happened when humans were stupid enough to play at summoning demons in exchange for the usual crap—money, fame, sex. Still, I couldn’t let her die.
Unlike demons or other half-breeds blessed with supernatural speed and endurance, I had to rely on my bursts of sweet adrenaline and my profound hatred for body-snatching demons to fuel my legs. I was fit, but I wasn’t an athlete. My mortal body could only endure so much, and if I didn’t banish the demon soon, I was going to drop dead of exhaustion.
I’d been hired by the dark witch court to keep tabs on the Veil, mostly on hunting and banishing whatever demon or supernatural baddy came through. The pay wasn’t great, but it took care of the bills and helped me keep my family home, which was all I needed.
Demons were always tampering with the Veil. They’d pierce it and manage to cross over to our world to feast on a few human souls. Days like the solstice or full moons, when the Veil was at its thinnest, resulted in a larger outpour of demons.
That’s where I came in.
I’d blast them back to the Netherworld. Fire usually did the trick. A couple of fireballs later and the demons were back in their world, leaving the mortal world a little safer.
I hated nothing more than a body-snatching demon. Okay, maybe two body-snatching demons. The fact remained, I loathed them. There was something utterly disturbing about being trapped in your own body while someone else piloted it around and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I wouldn’t stand for it. I would rip that demon out of her through her throat if I had to.
I caught a flicker of movement across the darkened street and turned to see a shadow retreat. Julia, the girl, disappeared through a door at the bottom of a six-story apartment building on West 46th street. Good. I couldn’t exorcise a demon openly in the streets of New York City, not without getting my ass arrested and my face splattered all over social media.
I took a deep breath and followed her.
A few humans blurred past me as I ran up the street. Humans—blissfully ignorant of the paranormal dangers and horrors that surrounded them. The Veil acted like a glamour, changing the way things looked to human eyes and preventing them from seeing the paranormal world and its inhabitants. Must be nice to wake up each morning with only your bills and mortgage and kids to worry about. Not the giant winged ugnur demon that slipped through a Rift and decided to feast on your brain because, well, that’s what they do.
Exhaust fumes, hot pavement and the stench of garbage displaced the night air as I ran across the street. The gathering dark rushed in to fill the spaces where the streetlights couldn’t reach. There were no lights in the windows, which was the perfect breeding grounds for demons who thrived in darkness. In turn, the darkness fed them with power. But that didn’t stop me.
By the time I reached the apartment building, my heart wanted to explode through my chest to say hello to the concrete slab at my feet. Damn.
You’d think by now I would have made a charm for endurance and speed. I made a mental note to look into that when I got home. A pair of super-legs would have been golden right about now.
Pinching the cramp at my side, I gulped down buckets of air, feeling slightly dizzy, and pulled open the door. I stepped into the darkened lobby and stopped to listen. The faint whisper of water running through pipes answered back. Then nothing. The dim scent of sulfur lay on the air. I smiled. My demon.
The lobby led into an equally dark hallway—a recipe for more trouble. But I never followed recipes.
With my heart pounding in my ears, I stepped forward, and the sound of glass crunching under my boots stopped me dead in my tracks. I looked to the side wall, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the two adjacent light fixtures, their glass bulbs shattered.
Not knowing which apartment door the demon had slipped through, I ran to the first door on the first floor and checked the knob. Locked. I hissed in frustration. It would take me hours to check all the doors in this place. Julia didn’t have that long.
I made my way forward again and then hesitated for a moment at the corner of the hall. The soft click of a metal door opening and then closing reached me.
