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  DEMONS & DEVILS

  (DEMON HUNTERS #1)

  BY VI CARTER WRITING AS M.A. ROTH

  Chapter One

  Daniel

  I sat outside her apartment like I did every night, keeping an eye on her door.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  I knew the day would come, and I wanted to be ready. One thing I knew; he would never take her from me. He would have to get through me first. A small smile crept across my face. How I would love to tear him apart. I growled, feeling frustrated; he was one of the main threats now and I needed to eliminate him. I pushed off the wall, pulling my black hoodie closer to my eyes. A good few people were around, but none paying attention to me. They were too transfixed on their own wants; a syringe giving them a pass on reality, or an encounter with a female making the sounds of pleasure rise. I pushed all the noises aside and focused. She was moving around, her angry footsteps hitting the wooden floor in her bathroom. The water turned on and my body came alive. My want for her was too much at times and I groaned.

  “You okay, man?” a junky asked from a few feet away.

  I didn’t answer, just threw a look to silence him. I couldn’t understand why she lived here. Maybe the chaos made her feel more normal, but that was something she would never be. A hiss made my head jerk up and then her intake of breath. My hands balled into fists. I wanted to go to her and take the razor from her hand, but I couldn’t. She would hate it if I knew. It was her own release, I didn’t understand it fully, but it made her focus on the pain instead of the real problem. A cold breeze made me study the door that led into the apartment buildings more closely. It wasn’t just cold it was ice cold.

  “Nicolas!” I whispered. It took me a second to move the thirty paces that stood between me and her door. I didn’t care if anyone saw; they were too far gone to understand and would assume it was a trick of their drugged up minds. The air in my lungs was now freezing. I could feel him coming. I felt the apprehension bubble inside me. A fire raged through my veins as he materialized before me. I didn’t give him a moment, but pulled the sword from the air and swung at his neck. He was quick, ducking and coming up with his own sword. They met with a loud clang.

  “Daniel, great to see you.” His hard face was set like stone, his black eyes wanting blood. Not mine, but hers.

  I let the anger boil and withdrew my sword, striking him with all my force. It met its target, and he stumbled back, but he regained his footing quickly. Allowing him to come at me with his body weight behind his swing, I dodged to the side in a blur and arched my sword. I swung for his back, but he’d anticipated my move and our swords met.

  “Have we been practicing?” I asked in a mocking tone while taking another swing.

  “Maybe you have lost your touch,” he spat back and struck my sword. Metal struck metal and small pieces of ice flew towards me. I moved, but a few struck my left arm, piercing me like small pieces of glass. I ignored the pain and gave him a sneer.

  “Playing dirty, are we?” I asked, letting the fire heat my blade until it grew red.

  “You never play nice, Daniel.” Nicolas’s face radiated the hate he has for me, and I returned it, letting my sword burn before I took a swipe, knowing he would block it. So I did what he wouldn’t expect, I slid towards him on the partially frozen ground and passed his legs in a blur, cutting below his knee before flipping up and swinging my sword at his back. It sliced into his flesh and he roared in pain, falling to his knees. I raised my sword, aiming for his neck. It swung high into the air, the red flame lighting up the sky, but before it made contact, he disappeared. I stood there for a moment, my blood still boiling with adrenaline. However, it fizzled and the pain in my arm came alive. Rain started to pour and I let my sword dissolve along with my anger. He wouldn’t be coming back tonight and I needed to rest and heal. My phone buzzed as I moved away from the door.

  “Daniel,” Father Peter’s voice filled my ear.

  “Yeah, you got a job for me?” I asked, pulling the hoodie over my face again as I walked deeper into the shadows.

  “It’s a possession. I don’t want her doing it alone.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll pick her up. I’m in the area, anyway.”

  I could hear him sigh with relief. He cared about her more than I had believed at the start.

  I was about to hang up when he spoke again, “Thank you, Daniel. I’ll ring her now.”

  “Okay, No problem,” I said before ending the call.

  I hadn’t gone far before the heavy rain stopped. A freak shower. I took off at the speed of light to change and get my bike before I picked her up. She would be pissed. I smiled. She was always pissed.

  Abigail

  I clicked my Nokia cell phone shut then stuffed it into my worn, brown leather jacket pocket. Slamming the door behind me, I bounded down the hard brown tiled steps out the main door. The surface outside my door made me glide, and I nearly lost my balance. Ice coated the path in front of the main door… in June? That didn’t make sense. I stepped off the icy path and walked around the corner to the side of my apartment building and into the alleyway. No street lights lit up the small and dirty path, which was wedged between the two large red brick buildings. The path was littered with beer bottles and household rubbish, and grass sprang up amongst the cracks in the pavement. It was a run-down dive.

  The building on my left was home. Number twenty-two is my own place, it wasn’t much, but like I said, it was mine and that’s all that mattered to me. The other building was full of unknown people who I had no intention of getting to know. I spent fifty percent of my time here and fifty percent at the base, or the headquarters for us demon hunters. We were the only group in the London area. There were five of us, including Father Peter - the man who took me in and raised me. The man who had saved us all from ourselves. We all had our reasons for becoming hunters, each one as depressing as the next.

  The base became home to most of us, but I spent the least amount of time there. Cathy, Zee, and Father Peter lived there permanently, but Simon stayed between the base and his brothers. He was lucky enough to still have people who cared about him. The rest of us just learned to accept each other as a family Our own blood relatives were either dead or didn’t want to know us.

  I was the only one with no living family and who chose to live alone. For me, being around people, having to smile and interact was too hard. I pretended to be normal most of the day, but once I was home, I could let the mask slip and be myself. I wouldn’t be able to keep the pretense up twenty-four hours a day and lately, it was becoming harder to pretend that everything was normal. My pride was my weakness. I needed people, but I refused to give in.

  The noise of my black military boots splashing in large puddles pulled me back from my thoughts. My black jeans were tucked neatly into my boots, to keep them dry. I shivered now against the wind that whipped at my face, pulling strands of my long, straight, black hair out of its tightly wound bun. It never stayed put, the shiny silky tendrils finding an escape route too easily. I pushed some strands out of my deep, brown eyes and pulled my jacket tighter around my small frame. The black top I wore under my jacket was light and the cold air raced through it, raising goose bumps on its way. I scolded myself for not dressing in w
armer clothes, but Father Peter had just called and I didn’t have time to change. The job was urgent, so I would have to do as I was.

  I walked faster, keeping a look out over my left shoulder. One thing Father Peter always told me with a weary look on his face, “Always fear the living more than the dead.” Some days, I questioned his theory, but on nights like these… I had to agree. I glanced to my left as soft moans from two men caught my attention. One had a belt tightened around his upper arm as the other watched with anticipated glee. The man slapped his arm, making the veins rise before inserting the syringe full of heroin. More bruises than I could count coated his arm. He slumped as his drug of choice fuelled his body into oblivion. His companion took the syringe and, with greedy eyes, started to prep himself but paused when he saw me pass. I dropped my eyes, and he grunted before continuing. A gunshot resounded somewhere in a distant apartment building. The squeal of sirens soon followed.

  My heart skipped a beat as my phone rang loudly. My hand, now cold and blue, hurt as I reached into my pocket to retrieve it, brushing my knuckles off the steel zip that felt like razor blades against my numb skin. I pushed the phone to my ear not looking at the caller ID. I already knew who it was.

  “Zee, I’m kind of busy so you’ll have to make it quick.” I knew why he was calling, but I was a sucker for the impossible.

  “Me too, funny that is.” I could hear the smirk in his voice. I normally never worked alone, but after the nightmares that woke me, I didn’t want to see Zee tonight never mind work with him. He was always centered in my nightmares.

  “Hilarious, I am holding my sides,” I said as dryly as possible, hoping he would quickly catch on to my bad mood.

  That was one thing I loved about Zee, I could be myself around him and didn’t have to pretend to be okay. My silence never bothered him. He never once forced me to speak about what was on my mind. Yet, I often felt that he knew exactly what I was thinking.

  I turned a corner out of the alleyway and my body relaxed, happy to be out of the danger zone. I had come across a bit of trouble at times and especially at night time when a more sinister scene developed around our complex. But what did I expect? A woman or a girl on her own, well, it all depended on what way you looked at me, I was only nineteen, but I had seen my fair share of life. I was a target for loiterers. They never harmed me but shouted abuse or made suggestive remarks. It didn’t scare me. That’s why I still walk through it and use it as a shortcut, I just hope I will never regret all the warnings that Zee has given me. However, it did save me a twenty-minute walk through the apartment complex so that was good enough for me.

  ***

  The roar of a motorcycle made my body tense, but as it tore up beside me I recognized the shiny black bike and its driver. Closing the phone roughly, I stuffed it back in my pocket and took the outstretched helmet that Zee held out. Putting it on, I took in his appearance as I clipped it shut. He wore the usual black pants, black high neck top, boots, and a long black trench coat that I knew hid all his tools. His sharp blue eyes studied me as I clipped the helmet firmly to my head. He didn’t wear a helmet. Zee’s black hair sat below his jawline and flicked across his forehead. It always sat perfectly.

  “Father Peter?” I asked as I climbed on while lacing my arms around him. Once again, I already knew the answer, of course, Father Peter had rang him and asked him to go with me. It wasn’t a good time for me and Father Peter would do anything to make sure I was all right.

  He gave me one of his smirks. “No, my crystal ball.” He jammed down on the accelerator and we took off at full speed.

  I was getting sick of this, always needing a babysitter. The sad part was that deep down I knew I needed one as I wasn’t my usual strong self and Zee was never one to walk away from me. If he could, he would be glued to my side at all times, but as I much as I needed Zee, I always needed my space too.

  We didn’t speak over the roar of the engine or the fact that Zee was dodging cars at full speed. A flash of a speed camera glinted off his helmet. He could paper a room with all the tickets he had, but in our line of work, Father Peter had the power to make them disappear. He had warned Zee that he was no longer going to sort out his mess and that he needed to slow down, but by the way he was riding the bike, he didn’t heed Father Peter’s warning. Typical.

  We pulled up to a rundown block of houses, all identical in structure down to the overhead porch that acted as a shelter for its occupants from the harsh rain, as they entered their homes. I could see the dark pavement under some of the porches. So much for the shelter. The dripping of water from the small roof suggested plenty of cracks in the old structures. The gardens were small and no flowers or bushes of any sort colored them. They all looked grey and gloomy. This should be fun, I thought to myself. I climbed off and left the helmet on the seat.

  I moved towards number forty-four, the house where Father Peter had sent me. I stood at the little rusty gate and took it in. It was a two-story, standard house, white dash that no longer looked white and brown wooden windows and door. It was clean, but like all the rest, bland and depressing looking. I neared the house, up the small pavement that divided the medium size lawn on either side. As Zee followed I heard his coat flapping in the wind. I could only imagine what we looked like, what people must think when they called for help and two teenagers dressed all in black, ready for action, arrived at their door.

  Chapter Two

  Abigail

  At the first knock, a man opened the door, nearly making me fall into the hall with the quickness of his answer. Zee’s hand moved to my waist steadying me. I looked up at the man in annoyance, but he didn’t seem to notice. The bags under his eyes had bags. His complexion was paler than what would be considered normal, but really, what was considered normal these days? He wore simple jeans and a shirt that was stained under the arms from sweat long dried in. His stomach bulged ever so slightly against the shirt, causing strain on the three lower buttons. My eyes moved to his feet that tapped nervously on the carpet and I was greeted with his big toe poking out of a hole in his sock. I looked back up at his brown eyes as they shifted nervously from me to Zee, but then they stopped moving and he stood back to let us in, no questions asked.

  We entered into a small hallway. A brown carpet that looked like it had its day lined the floor and the walls were an off-white color with happy family pictures hanging along them.

  ***

  “Where is she?” I asked as I laid out my roll of equipment on a table; the only piece of furniture in the hall.

  Taking a cross out of my pack, I poured holy water over it, splashing some on the hall table and the carpet. A small price to pay for us saving his daughter’s soul. Rolling the rest back up, I placed it into my jacket and tucked the bible under my arm.

  “This way,” the man said looking ready to bolt but he must have thought otherwise.

  He stood at the third door along the hallway. Zee placed his hand on the door, and then gave me a nod.I moved towards the door, but before I turned the handle, I turned to the man.

  “How long has she been like this?”

  I asked as Zee got himself ready.

  Father Peter didn’t give many details, he just needed me to get there as quickly as possible.

  Tears filled the man’s eyes. “A week, maybe two.” At least, it didn’t have a long time to fester.

  I gave Zee a nod just as I turned the handle and entered the darkened room. Light hurts them so I switched it on and let it flood the space. It was a standard sized bedroom, nothing special about it. A once white wardrobe rested against one wall, it looked old and had faded over time. My eyes moved to the locker that was pine. It was bare of any ornaments and sat tightly against the single bed that the girl lay on. Her body was partially naked and her long blonde hair was stuck to her neck with sweat. I couldn’t make out her features as her face was no longer human looking, neither were the hands that rested on her swollen abdomen. I turned to the man to give him a piece of my min
d for forgetting to tell us this one small detail, but he had bolted, leaving us with his pregnant and possessed daughter.

  Words of another language and another time came out of the girl’s mouth, more than likely cursing us into the ground or into hell.

  Zee’s hands moved robotically, taking items out of his trench coat. He placed two small white candles on the window sill, but didn’t light them - they were a just in case. He stayed close to them but leaned against the wall. His presence dominated the space, and he looked so large in the small room.

  “Do you want to do it or shall I?” I asked.

  I always gave him the option; he did most of the work, but I hated tiring him out.

  He gave me the once-over, considering if I was strong enough. “You go ahead. I’ll observe,” he finally answered.

  My movement towards the girl caused the demon inside her to rev up, making her body move at all the wrong angles.

  I splashed her with the holy water. It bubbled up on her skin, the vapor rising and disappearing. A hiss left her mouth and more words followed. Taking out the bible, I turned to the page where the most powerful prayer lay, holding the cross steadily in my hands I started,

  We drive you from us,

  Whoever you may be,

  Unclean spirits,

  All satanic powers,

  All infernal invaders,

  All wicked legions,

  Assemblies and sects.

  In the name, and by the power of Our Lord Jesus Christ,

  May you be snatched away and driven from the Church of God,

  And from the souls made to the image and likeness of God,

  And redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb.

  The sound of laughter made me stop. As the demon overtook the girl’s face completely, my heart rate elevated. Zee, quick to act, lit two candles, knowing what was to come as the light bulb brightened, casting a blinding light in the room before it exploded and small shards of glass flew into the air. I covered my face, protecting it from the onslaught of the flying glass. Small cuts across my hands stung and warm blood slid slowly down my fingers. I took my hands away, ignoring the pain. The flames from the small candles Zee had lit danced across the room but gave little light. Not being able to see fully always made a possession more frightening; no matter how many times I did it, it never got easier.