Demon Hunt Read online

  Demon Hunt

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Demon Hunt

  By

  A.W. Hart

  (c ) copyright by A.W. Hart, March 2009

  Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, March 2009

  New Concepts Publishing

  Smashwords Edition

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Chapter One

  Cripple Creek, Colorado

  January 2:05 am

  Rhiannon Brennan surveyed the casino floor from her vantage point behind blackjack Table Four with a weary eye. The interior of the small, elegant casino looked like the aftermath of a frat party during rush week. Ash trays overflowed with cigarette butts, empty beer bottles lined the tops of slot machines and stools were scattered haphazardly down the slot aisles.

  Raised voices told her the last few revelers were about to be escorted from the Silver Pearl Casino. She glanced at her watch and smirked. Exactly five minutes after closing. Hardcore gamblers. They never could get enough.

  With a sigh, she flipped her dark hair over one shoulder, and the residual aroma of cigarette smoke and beer wafted out of the black strands, making her wince. She stank. Everyone who had entered the doors of the crowded casino during the evening rush for even a moment probably smelled like an ashtray.

  The blackjack pit would not be sorted out for at least an hour. The pit supervisor stepped up beside her to place the clear, Plexiglas cover over her chips and lock up the table.

  “We’ll count the table down and sort cards in a few, Rhi. Go take a break,” Stephen, a slender, well-dressed man, told her. He appeared haggard and his eyes were red-rimmed from the smoke and noise of a ten-hour holiday shift.

  “Your eyes could pass for a Denver roadmap.” Rhi ambled over to lean on the center podium and watch him lock down her fellow dealers’ tables.

  “Yours ain’t much better, my sweet,” he replied over one shoulder. “Boy, things were a bit over the top on the maniacs tonight. Did you see the guy get hauled out for peeing in his token cup instead of taking two minutes away from his slot to hit the john?”

  Rhi grinned. “Things could have been worse. Crazy Cootie didn’t make an appearance tonight.”

  The pair shuddered in unison.

  “I think he’s still in jail over his last world tour.” Stephen nodded at the dealer next to him, signaling her to clear her hands and step back from the locked down tray of chips.

  A visit from the legendary hermit to the casino meant a confrontation over Cootie’s losses, if the man were sober. If the hermit had buried himself in the town’s stock of Kentucky bourbon, a visit from Cootie meant a brawl.

  “Ahh, the casino life!” Marie Collier, the dealer Stephen released from her table, joined Rhi behind the podium. “Spit, beer, tobacco…”

  “And money,” Rhi reminded the petite blonde.

  “Oh yes, we can’t forget about the money, filthy stuff!” Marie yanked her bow tie loose and glanced at the clock. “Hitting any parties?”

  “Are you nuts? I’ll barely be awake enough to drive home after we get done,” Rhi replied, rolling her eyes.

  “Well, I was gonna hit a few to let off some steam, wind me down…you know.”

  Marie swiveled on one heel, pouting. Rhi moaned inwardly. The girl would be unbearable to work closing duties with if she didn’t get her way.

  “Go on, get out of here. I’ll close.”

  “You mean it?” Marie squealed and hopped across the velvet rope.

  Stephen, examining a new cigarette hole on Table One, straightened and eyeballed Rhi in disgust. “You know cutting slackers loose is my job, don’t you? Now you’re going to get to count down two tables.”

  “I don’t mind. Anyway, do you want to put up with her for another hour?” Rhi grinned, watching Marie’s retreating back as she headed towards the heavy steel side door leading to the downstairs offices and locker room.

  “Uh, you do have a point.”

  Within ten minutes, Marie had returned to the main casino floor, dressed for the hike to the employee parking lots.

  “That was fast,” Rhi told her dryly. She lounged in a chair at one of the tables, resting her feet and sipping coffee.

  “Oh … Rhi, you aren’t closing for everyone are you?” Marie gave her a pitying glance, which annoyed Rhi. The pretty blonde openly detested her. She shrugged. She would rather close alone than listen to the other girl’s whining.

  Marie put an arm around her shoulders, mistaking Rhi’s silence for embarrassment. “Come on, sweetie! Surely some fine piece of man flesh is waiting at home for you!”

  “The only piece of man flesh I want in my house is the cable guy so I can get upgraded to the deluxe package. My dog can’t watch HBO right now and missing Rome is making her cranky.” Rhi picked up her coffee cup, hoping the movement would signal to Marie the conversation was over.

  “Well, you just need to get out more! Live a little!” Marie whirled to head for the front doors, where she bounced impatiently as she waited for the security guard to unlock the doors to release her. Rhi observed as the guard lectured Marie for a moment about casino regulations mandating that workers leaving the casino after a shift were to exit via the employees’ entrance. Marie pouted and began to whine, her nasal pleas carrying to the pit. The older man, a grizzled Cripple Creek native, shook his head in despair and unlocked the doors.

  Rhi began to turn back towards the pit when a shiver down her spine caused her to pause and stare again at the etched glass of the casino’s double doors. A shadow passed between the casino and the streetlamps lining the street. She gazed at the entrance through narrowed green eyes and blinked. She must have been more exhausted than she thought. The clouds of windblown snow moving in front of the streetlamps had taken on monstrous shapes in her mind.

  “What’s wrong, princess?” Stephen busily sorted cards on the table. A plate crowned by a doughnut had miraculously appeared next to her coffee mug.

  “You’re too good to me,” Rhi told him, settling back into her chair to sort the used cards. The cleaning crew and slot techs slammed and banged about behind the rows of slots but compared to the casino two hours earlier, the cavernous room was almost peaceful.

  “The brat gone?”

  “Finally,” Rhi replied. She hesitated and lowered her voice to speak again. “Is it just me or is something w
eird in the air tonight?”

  Stephen laughed. “That’s just where the guy wearing the redneck sweatshirt puked in the corner around eleven. The air in here is gonna be weird for a while.”

  “Ugh. You didn’t have to share that one, you know.”

  * * * *

  The odds of spotting a virgin on the street at this hour were about the same as hitting a jackpot on one of Slim Willy’s video poker machines.

  The dark figure snorted with laughter at the notion as he balanced on the rim of the Palace Hotel’s roof, watching the street below. He’d brought his favorite demon along for company but the thing kept moaning about being cold. They both needed blood and entertainment. The solution: settle for a bit of tarnish on the girl.

  With an eye on Cripple Creek’s deserted main thoroughfare, he flipped a knife into a discarded wooden billboard. Nearby, the naked figure of the demon cowered in the cold, the icy mucus that covered its wings and body a testament to the frigid temperature.

  The smaller creature edged closer and reached to wrap itself in a corner of its master’s cashmere overcoat. The moment its abnormally long fingers touched the rich fabric, the blade flickered and impaled the pathetic being against the rooftop.

  “Naughty, Adolph,” the demon’s master murmured. He jerked the smoking knife out and wiped the blade clean, first in the snow, then on his coat.

  Adolph got up and tottered backwards. Black fluid poured from the cut and sizzled when the demon flopped to the ground. The hideous wound healed in seconds, the ebony flow slowing. Muttering, the creature scrambled a few feet away, hunched over, and rocked back and forth.

  A lone woman emerged from one of the casinos across the street. She tucked a long strand of blonde hair behind one ear and surveyed her surroundings before setting off up the street for the employee lots.

  The predator on the rooftop examined her aura. Not a virgin, but with those delicate features, who cared? He shifted and took a quick look at the faint glow of his designer watch. Time to announce his return.

  * * * *

  Marie stepped out of the swinging doors of the casino into a beautiful winter’s night and an unidentifiable stench. She wrinkled her nose. A horrific stink had joined Cripple Creek’s regular brew of bourbon and cigarette smoke. The burnt metallic smell made her eyes water. God only knew what some idiot had dumped nearby to create such a reek.

  She paused to take a last glance at the stain of light that spilled out of the casino’s plate glass windows onto the sidewalk and shouldered her backpack to start the long trek up Bennett Avenue.

  Marie hated the ink black alleyways of the old town. Late at night, the old brick buildings creaked and moaned and the dark side streets sounded as if they were filled with something unspeakable. Damn the casino owners for making their grunts hike so far to the employee lots. She had been forced to park in the furthest corner of the most remote lot in town earlier in the day because she was an hour late for her shift. The more accessible lots were filled with the cars of dealers who were conscientious enough to get to work on time.

  The blackjack dealer’s hiking boots crunched pockets of snow as she trudged past another casino. The laughter of the closing employees and ring of slot machines shutting down floated outside. Marie glanced up but none of the crew joined her on the street. A few “Creekers” still puttered about but no one else headed to the parking lots.

  The ghost of a grin crossed Marie’s face at the mental picture of Clark’s face when she got to his house and showed him the lace teddy she wore under her clothes. A little booze, a little pot, a scrap of lace and Clark and his one hundred thousand dollar-a-year casino manager salary would be locked up.

  Behind her, a tiny figure scampered out of an alleyway. It stood on the sidewalk for a moment, head cocked, watching the woman. The creature gave a little shiver of glee before scampering away.

  Marie glimpsed movement out of the corner of her eye. Whirling, she spotted nothing.

  New Year’s Eve had been busy, as usual. Dealing blackjack to the masses filling the old gold mining town to capacity for the celebration had exhausted her. Marie’s leg and back muscles ached but her mind already spent the tips she pulled in during the long grind of the evening. She concentrated on cleansing her lungs of secondhand smoke by sucking in bucketfuls of clean air.

  After an eternity of striding uphill, she turned down Fourth Street, descending to the Myers Avenue employee parking lot. There, her Jeep stood like a sentinel by a forlorn lamppost.

  The cold worked its way up her coat sleeves, and she fumbled with the cuff of her parka while quickly marching towards the back lot.

  By focusing on the cuff and not where she stepped, Marie sank a booted foot into the center of a smoking pile of fresh burro dung. One of the wild descendants of the miners’ pack animals that roamed the streets at will had deposited the manure within the last few moments.

  Cursing, Marie stooped to scrape her boot on the curb, trying not to breathe in the fumes rising from the moss green goo.

  Nearby, a shadow detached itself from the darkness behind the Old Homestead Whorehouse. The graceful white brick building was the sole remnant of Myers Avenue’s main source of revenue in the gold rush years, the shadow-filled alley in back of the building designed for discreet stealth.

  Marie’s heart skipped when she heard a soft breath behind her, like a gunshot in the quiet air. Every muscle clenched as she whirled to stare into the shadow’s face. With a choked cry, she spun to race for the security of the Jeep. The pursuer made no sound as he flew along behind her, a long blade dangling from his right hand.

  She slammed, sobbing, into the side of the truck and ripped open her pack to dig for keys.

  A black-gloved hand swung her body around to smash her against the door. She couldn’t find her voice because of the vise-like fingers around her throat. Silent, her mouth gaped, desperate to scream.

  The night hid the sight of the rise and fall of the steel blade. Marie crumpled to the ground, where she lay helpless and drowning in her own blood.

  Her killer knelt and placed a gloved hand on her cheek in an almost comforting manner for a moment. Then he cut her jacket, her shirt and her new baby blue satin teddy away from her body. The cold sliced into her bare chest the same moment he cut out her heart. She made another gurgling effort to scream before succumbing to the spreading blackness.

  Holding the heart in one hand, the killer’s sleek black head bent to feed at the fountain he created. Beneath, the snow turned black.

  Chapter Two

  Cripple Creek, Colorado

  January 1, present

  3:00 AM

  Rhi was the last dealer to leave the Silver Pearl Casino.

  After counting down the blackjack pit, Rhi waded through the night’s piles of used cards for an hour. In spite of her earlier misgivings, she left without an escort to her truck, knowing Stephen would be going over paperwork for another hour.

  “What the hell was I thinking, moving here from nice warm Mississippi?”

  She asked the question aloud as she stared at her breath turn to crystals in the air. Towards the west end of Bennett Avenue, her SUV stood parked in the driveway of one the last private homes that remained on the town’s main street.

  She felt like a Popsicle. Thank God Stephen, a Cripple Creek native who inherited his period home, shared his driveway with her on nights like this.

  The overgrown holly bushes to her left softly rustled. Rhi stared into the mass of greenery, straining to see.

  Nothing.

  She paused to check out her surroundings five times on her trip this evening. She shook her head, disgusted with herself. Casino life included a certain amount of negative energy, and some of negativity must have escaped to follow her imagination home.

  There were days when dealing blackjack in Cripple Creek was what the job was supposed to be – harmless fun. But too often a true gambling addict materialized to play at Rhi’s table. Eyes alight with The Fever, the fa
natic’s hands shook with desperation as he watched the cards fall. Rhi often left work with their greed following her like a dark, oily fog.

  Whatever followed her tonight didn’t feel greedy, though. It felt hungry.

  Rhi stopped beside the truck, dug for her keys, unlocked and climbed up into the vehicle. She started the engine and sat for a few moments, allowing the block to warm up. When the snow on the windows began to melt, she hopped out armed with a small broom she kept in the back. She swept as much snow as possible off of the windows and hood, working fast, one eye on the street.

  Finished, Rhi jumped into the toasty vehicle and locked the doors. After backing out of the driveway, she turned up the street. A sudden giant-nails-against-a-chalkboard scraping followed by a whooshing thump caused her to almost jam the brake pedal through the floorboard.

  Crap.

  She skidded to a stop in the center of the empty street to check her rearview mirror. Seeing nothing, she pulled up a bit and cracked open the door to lean out and check behind her. A pile of snow lay in the street. The cap of frozen snow on the truck’s roof had slid off.

  She slammed the door shut and goosed the gas pedal.

  Behind the SUV, a small, winged creature burst from the pile of snow. The truck headed out of town and the demon took to the air to fly just above the SUV.

  Clouds of snow crystals blew across the frozen dirt road as Rhi passed Mt Pisgah Cemetery. The interior of the vehicle reeked of the cigarette smoke clinging to Rhi’s hair. A stale spicy scent joined the mix, rising from the to-go box containing a burrito she left under the seat the night before.

  Driving past several Victorian wood frame houses, the evergreens in the yards humped over with the weight of the new snowfall, Rhi ignored the hulking gray and white menace of the cemetery’s forty-acre hill to her left. But the road took a turn, forcing her to face the massive burial ground, sole proof that the tiny town of Cripple Creek had once been a thriving metropolis, considered as a potential location for the state capitol in its heyday. The thousands of snow-covered gravestones and mausoleums resembled a malevolent crowd gathered on the hill.