Seduction of the Demon Hunter Read online

  Seduction of the Demon Hunter

  Leah Grant

  Published: 2017

  ISBN: 978-1-62210-431-4

  Published by Liquid Silver Publishing. Copyright © 2017, Leah Grant.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the USA

  Email [email protected] with questions, or inquiries about Liquid Silver Books, Liquid Silver Publishing, or Ten West Publishing.

  Blurb

  Drake Banner has been hunting demons since his seventeenth birthday. That was centuries ago. An angel intervened that fateful day and saved him, but charged Drake with hunting demons from that day forward. When there is a message on his answering machine asking for help, Drake is intrigued and needs to find out just who the sexy voice belongs to.

  Darna Andress is thirty and wondering if she will ever find love. After a reading with a medium, Darna finds she's not herself anymore. After several embarrassing incidents, she knows she needs some help. She turns to Drake Banner but finds him more interested in helping himself—to her.

  A centuries-old demon is back and has found the perfect way to take Drake down. Drake thought he had everything under control until love gets in the way…and now he may have to pay the ultimate price.

  Chapter 1

  SMOKE filled the room. It swirled and danced about, leaving its signature in the heavy air. A lone cigarette sat burning in a tin ashtray, the smoker having abandoned it. Drake trailed his finger along the condensation clinging to the side of his glass. In seconds, droplets of water edged down through the center of his creation: a heart.

  “Looks like your heart is shedding a couple of tears.” The drunk at the next table pointed. True enough. His heart had endured some real pain over the years. He nodded at the withered old barnacle, avoiding engaging in conversation. He watched as the man tried to reach for the last bit of the cigarette, unable to comprehend that it was on another table. Drake found it miraculous the man could hold his head up and form words after the amount of alcohol he’d watched him consume.

  The cold sensation from the glass felt good in a place where everything seemed to bleed out stale, smelly, and dank. Drake downed the last bit of the cheap whiskey. He held on to the glass for a couple of seconds, staring down into its now empty bottom as though expecting some genie to be there. He rose, the heavy wood chair scraping against the uneven planks of the tavern’s floor. Besides the drunk, he was the only other patron in the establishment.

  “You’re not leaving so soon, are you, honey?” The waitress’s overly pink lips pouted, then as quickly melted into a smile. Drake squinted at her lacquered hair. How it held its shape was either a miracle or Harley was an alien.

  “Sorry, Harley. I’ve got things to do and places to be.” He admired the older waitress. Harley was one of the reasons he drank here. She had real character. The watering hole had become a place of refuge for Drake. It was much easier to ponder matters while sipping something that had some heat to it. Being around people less concerned with intellectual matters and more with alcohol consumption was another plus.

  “When you leave, the whole place loses some class.” She winked at him. Drake watched as her breasts strained against the fabric of the blouse. How those enormous tits of hers didn’t spill out each time she made a cheap attempt to wipe off the table left him confused and disappointed.

  “This joint doesn’t have any class, Harley. It’s a dive.” Drake tossed a couple of bills onto the table and made his way to the door.

  He watched her scramble to snatch up the money. Harley stood, saluting him. “God bless you, sir. I rarely see anything but coin these days.”

  Outside, the sunlight slapped him hard. Drake patted down his pockets until he found what he was looking for. He slipped on the black sunglasses, getting immediate relief. The six blocks back to his apartment passed by quickly as he walked along. The old brick building with its crumbling masonry was as tired looking as he felt. Work had been slow lately. Lucky for him that didn’t mean much. He’d made his money, and considering how long he’d been on this planet, well, it wasn’t like he was going to be broke anytime soon. A demon hunter by trade, Drake liked to phrase what he did as a kind of specialty—helping damsels in distress. Being a spiritual gunslinger was not a choice: it was his destiny, and Drake had long ago accepted the lonely road. He’d rid the world of malice one demon at a time.

  The apartment was small, with walls thin enough to let him know how many times a day his neighbors farted, fucked, and flushed. Drake tossed his jacket onto the back of the couch and was about to head straight for the fridge and crack a beer open when he noticed the light on his message machine blinking. The steady on/off of its red glow put a smile on his face. It was a welcome sight after a week of zero phone calls. The dry spell was unusual and had left him wondering what was going on. Demons rarely took time off and therefore, neither did he.

  He listened carefully to the message on the machine. The sound of the woman’s voice immediately drew him in. Its sensual undertone wove a web of promise, calling out to his ever-present undercurrent of lust. Would the body match the voice? Sex constantly simmered on his backburner. Helping damsels in distress definitely had its benefits. Over the years, he’d learned to enjoy the side benefit to his occupation—sex.

  The voice continued to purr along. She had a voice like a drug he could feed on. Little goose bumps erupted over his forearms. Now, that was interesting. Drake pressed Replay, quickly writing down the particulars.

  “Darna Andress.” Drake rolled the name around his tongue, testing it. It was a good name—a name he’d instantly liked the sound of. He didn’t like the sound of her problem, though. She’d visited a psychic medium to get answers and found she’d left with more baggage than she’d gone with. At least that was how she described it. After so many years, his experience had taught him well, and the first rule was to investigate and find out what was going on. You never took a client’s word as gospel; you found out the truth by searching for it. Demons enjoyed keeping everyone confused. Messing with human lives was what they did best.

  Drake stretched, unable to fight off a deep yawn. The day had been beyond dull, the doldrums taking their toll on his nervy nature. If there was one thing he hated, it was waiting for the next job. As time went by, he’d found his life had gotten much smaller in a world that never seemed to cease growing. He collected new clothes to wear after his shower. He stared at the dresser, noticing the empty space where his family clock ought to have been. Had he packed it away and forgot? Too absorbed into the notion of what might become his next case, he ignored it.

  In the bathroom, he stripped his clothes off, then turned the faucet on high. Drake slipped into the shower, the hot streams of water cascading down his muscled body. His erection stood solid, proof of how much the woman’s voice on the answering machine had affected him. He lathered up the soap and stroked. What was it about the voice? It had sounded so rich, so open, and so sexual. Shutting his eyes, he leaned back against the wall, trying to make an image of the woman come to mind. Was she a brunette? A blonde? He cupped his balls, gently squeezing while his other hand stroked faster, milking his hardness. Finally, the release he’d been needing all day shot out into the raining water.
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  He braced his hands against the cool tiled wall, letting the water pelt his body. This world was so far removed from where he’d started. Something as simple as showering still amazed him. Imagine stepping into a cubicle and having water to wash with.

  “And hot water at that.” He thought back to that time long ago, to those mornings where the mist had hung heavy in the air, leaving a chill in his bones. Mornings where the first rays of sunlight were a relief both for their warmth and the feeling of protection the light brought. It cut through the darkness, and what might be lurking in it, waiting to harm. Drake cringed against the memory of those early risings, long before the sun reached out to their small farm. Perhaps the ice-cold water he’d splashed his face with each day had helped to jar him awake.

  “But there is no cure for stupid and gullible. You can’t wash that away.” He adjusted the temperature of the water, allowing the cool shock to bring him back into the present moment.

  Drake ran his hand over his face, noting the stubble. He reached for the shaving cream, then propped the small mirror up on the ledge. One, then two swipes with the razor and he stopped. He wiped the steam on the mirror, staring at his reflection. The man staring back seemed unrecognizable. Lately, he’d been questioning his life, and what it all meant. Over the past few months, he’d had moments where he’d felt alone in this world. There was a hole in his life. A hole that he’d never been able to fill and it was right in the middle of his heart. What would it be like to have someone by his side?

  “Don’t be an idiot. That isn’t for you.” Drake dragged the razor along his stubble, watching a tiny line of blood emerge along his jaw.

  Chapter 2

  HE’D called her two hours after she’d left the message, saying he couldn’t see her until the next day. Had she done the right thing? Darna stared at the mantle clock, chewing on the one remaining nail she had left. She’d never been any good at maintaining a proper manicure. Too nervous, that’s what Jenna always told her. Biting her nails was better than lighting up. So what if she couldn’t paint her hands up like Jenna did?

  Darna knew she’d woken up irritable. The dream had left its residue to color her day. It was a dream that had haunted her for a long time, but right now that wasn’t her biggest worry. She ran her hand over the phone’s receiver, almost knocking it off balance. What a stupid mess the whole thing was. Why had she ever gone in the first place?

  “You know damned well why you went,” she chided herself. “You were desperate for answers and now look where things are.”

  Yes, she’d wanted answers, and that was what Jenna had promised. Working side by side in the busy office over the past couple of years had solidified a friendship. Jenna had become a coffee-confidante, commiserating about how difficult dating could be at their age when the goal was to settle down and start a family. When Jenna had suggested getting a reading with a medium, Darna had been reluctant at first, but then warmed to the idea. Walking up to the brightly colored circus tent had left Darna with more than a few misgivings, but she went in.

  “What would you like to know?” the elderly woman had asked. A crystal ball sat in the middle of the small round table. The cheesy red tablecloth and cheap tassels hanging overhead had immediately set Darna on edge. She hadn’t wanted a circus-style psychic reading, but here it was—complete with fake ambiance and pay-by-the-minute cost. Each time she looked at the woman, Darna couldn’t help but think of the stereotypical caravan gypsy.

  “Love. I want to find out about love.” Darna almost whispered the words. She was grateful Jenna had stayed outside and couldn’t see the flush of embarrassment she felt heating her cheeks. There were some moments a person didn’t want anyone to see. It was bad enough this medium was witnessing her discomfort and embarrassment over her lonely life.

  “That is why people come to me, to find out about love,” the old medium explained. “What on earth is a young, beautiful redhead doing here? With a face like yours, men must beat down your door.”

  “I’m thirty, and I’m worried. I don’t seem to meet anyone, and I hoped to have children. I feel like my clock is ticking down and I’ll be all alone.” Darna let the pent-up words pour forth. It was cathartic to say all the things she’d held inside for so long.

  “Love is a tricky business and for some, even more so.” The gypsy reached, taking Darna’s left hand between both of her own. The warm, wrinkled skin felt soft. Immediately, tingles danced inside Darna’s skin, and she jerked her arm in response. She swallowed, panic coming over her. The sensation was strange, as though something was alive underneath her skin and making its way up her arm. A look of surprise flooded the medium’s face. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to come along. Things are going to happen for you, Darna.”

  “Will I find love?” Darna searched the icy blue waters of the fortune-teller’s eyes for an answer.

  “Yes, I think you might, but not with someone you know. He is a stranger. Strange.” She furrowed her brows and laughed. “You will find him soon.”

  “Can’t you tell me anything more?” Darna glanced down at her watch. Not even ten minutes! Certainly the old bat could make up more than that for twenty dollars.

  Darna looked up to find the woman studying her.

  “I can give you a gift, Darna, but you must accept it with your whole heart.”

  “Will it help bring love to me?” She could hear the desperation edging her own words.

  The medium nodded, then smiled. “Yes, now take my hands and repeat after me. I accept the gift and go forth. I accept all responsibility and become the keeper.”

  The words seemed a little odd at best, but hell, look where she was. Despite feeling foolish, Darna closed her eyes and repeated the words. When she opened them again, she gasped at the sight before her. The face of the medium began to transform. Within seconds, a good twenty years drained from her face and Darna was left staring at a rather pretty, younger woman.

  “What happened?” Clutching the table for support, Darna searched around, almost expecting to find something with them in the tent.

  “I am so sorry, my dear. I couldn’t bear to be the keeper any longer. It ages one so.” She stood, motioning for Darna to leave.

  “Keeper? Be the keeper of what?” Panic surged through her. What just happened?

  “I transferred the troublesome entity to you. I’ve never come across another that it would accept, but it has chosen you. Now it is your turn to carry it around. I’ve done my time. Go now.”

  Not knowing what else to say, Darna pushed through the beaded door curtain and left. What did the woman mean by a troublesome entity? Was she off her meds? Darna couldn’t deny what she had seen transpire before her own eyes. The woman had changed in appearance. She became younger looking. The only other plausible explanation was that it was all some elaborate ruse. Well, she’d certainly earned her twenty dollars then. Bravo to you, crystal-ball freak.

  As she searched along the food booths scattered throughout the midway, smells of sautéed onions and sugar-coated donuts assaulted her nose from every angle. When she finally found Jenna again, she hadn’t a clue what to tell her.

  “Did you get answers?” the pretty blonde asked, stuffing another handful of pink cotton candy into her mouth.

  “I got something.” Darna rubbed her hands and arms. Strange sensations prickled along her arms as if something were inside her. An unpleasant sensation settled into her gut. Something was definitely wrong.

  “Here, have some cotton candy. You can’t keep a sour face like that while eating something so good.” Jenna held out the treat.

  Chapter 3

  WHAT she could only describe as “hell” began for Darna in the days following her “reading.” Once a calm and uneventful life, her existence did a sharp right turn onto Freaky Highway, the only problem being that she couldn’t seem to find the turn-off back to normal. Apparently, she’d become a whole new person or personalities. At work, she’d bee
n shocked at her response to a coworker when he’d asked her to go over a draft of a report. A strange sensation gripped her being and Darna felt herself being pushed aside while something stronger took over.

  “Go screw yourself, you lazy piss-tank.” The coworker had stood blinking in shock at Darna’s crude reaction. After a few minutes, the odd feeling subsided, and she got control again. Darna had excused herself, saying she didn’t feel well. She’d hidden away in her small work cubicle, keeping her head down, avoiding eye contact. At lunch, she’d begged Jenna to come out to a small cafe with her.

  Jenna launched in as soon as they’d sat. “What happened this morning? I heard you bit Sam’s head off over a draft. Are you angry at him?”

  Darna toyed with the cheeseburger, wondering how to answer. “No, I’m not mad at Sam. I don’t know why I reacted that way, Jenna. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Ever since I went to that reader, I’m not the same.”

  Jenna made a face. “Darna, don’t you think you’re taking it all a bit too seriously? It was a reading. Did the woman say something to upset you? If she did, you need to let it go. Stop worrying about meeting a guy. When it’s right, it will happen. In the meantime, I suggest you pick up a bottle of wine and chill out tonight. You’re too stressed.”

  “I wish you weren’t going away,” Darna complained.

  “The cruise is for ten days. I’ll be back, and I promise I’ll bring you something, so cheer up.”

  Back at the office, no one bothered her for the rest of the day. Just underneath the surface, an overwhelming need to lash out lurked. Jenna had hugged her tight before leaving for the day.

  “Behave yourself.” Jenna had waved as she drove off, leaving Darna and the sick feeling gnawing at her guts behind.

  Over the next couple of days, it had continued to escalate. Something inside her fought against her will, trying to take over. What had the fortune-teller done to her?