Vivi Anna - Releasing the Hunter

The thump thump thump of hip-hop music vibrated over Ivy Strom’s flesh, making the little hairs on her arms stand to attention. The rhythmic noise was so loud she could barely hear her own rapid heartbeat.

She took another sip of her tonic and lime, the liquid quenching her dry throat. From her perch on the stool at the main bar, she scanned the dance floor once more for her quarry, her eyes pausing every so often on lone males.

She’d been told that Sallos, the Great Duke of Hell, would be here, lurking around like the degenerate demon he was. He’d taken two girls from here in the past four months. This was supposedly one of his favorite hunting grounds.

Now it was hers.

Ivy shifted in her seat; the silver daggers she had strapped to her sides underneath her T-shirt were starting to chafe. It was difficult to dress inconspicuously for a club and still carry as much hardware as she wanted.

She had no less than four knives on her, all silver; two ampuls of holy water, hidden carefully in her cleavage; and she’d hung a bag of salt from her belt. And of course she wore a blessed silver cross around her neck. She was prepared for anything to happen. With demons, it usually did.

She’d been hunting this one for a little over five months now. For the past year he’d been terrorizing the streets of San Francisco. Seven women had been murdered so far. They’d all been identified by their dental records and fingerprints. Because this demon didn’t leave much to recognize.

But his reign was over as far as Ivy was concerned. She’d gotten a reliable tip that he’d be here at this club tonight and Ivy was ready for him. She’d take him out, but not before she got a chance to interrogate him. It was her job to hunt him down, but there was also a personal reason behind her need to find him. This demon supposedly had information that could locate Quinn Strom, Ivy’s brother.

He’d been missing for three years now. He was the last of her family and she swore she’d never give up searching until she found him, dead or alive. At least then she’d know, and she could move on with her life. Or exact her revenge, which would be more like it. The Stroms were all about revenge and justice.

She’d been born into the hunting community. Her dad had been a hunter when he’d met her mother. He’d actually met her while chasing down a rogue priest who’d been possessed by a strong wrath demon. Ivy’s mother had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but her father had saved her life before the demon could do any permanent damage.

They never married, but they lived together, and she had learned the ways of the hunter. She had Quinn shortly after, then Ivy two years later. She’d died when Ivy was only nine. On the job, of course. It had always been about the job. Usually just their dad would go out on hunts, for days sometimes. But on a few occasions, both parents went. In this particular case, Quinn had been left to take care of her while their mom and dad hunted. Dad had come back alone.

Hunters rarely lived to a ripe old age.

Ivy ran a hand over the cross at her throat. The necklace had been a gift from Quinn about a month before he disappeared. When he gave it to her, he told her never to remove it. It would protect her day and night from everything, including the nightmares she sometimes had. After he left, she never did take it off. It was her last reminder of him. Everything else he had taken with him, wherever that was.

She missed him. When he disappeared it was as if he taken a part of her with him. They’d been close. Had to be to endure the constant moving around the country and their dad’s long absences while he hunted. Quinn had never let her out of his sight. He’d always been there for her. When she’d have nightmares, which was often, he’d be there to soothe her back to sleep. In many ways, Quinn had raised her. Not her dad.

Then he’d vanished and she’d been left to pick up the pieces of her life and of the hunt.

She finished her drink and slid off her stool. She’d do a walk around the club. There were some dark areas that she couldn’t quite see from the bar. This was where she could rely on the amulet she wore around her neck to help her search. When a demon was near, it lit up with a blue glow somewhat like a firefly. It heated up as well, so she’d feel it against her skin instantly if a demon crossed her path.

Brushing past some enthusiastic dancers, Ivy circled the dance floor. It was crammed with gyrating sweaty young people of every race and sexual orientation. As she moved past, she almost got swept up in the soulful throb of the music. The primal beats thumped in time to her heartbeat and she found she had to force herself not to move her body to the electrifying rhythm. On another night, she might’ve indulged. It had been too long since she’d had any sort of fun.

Because demon hunting had been part of her life since childhood, she’d been homeschooled so the family could travel often. So she’d never had those lifelong school friendships. In fact, she’d never had a real friend until she grew up and went out on her own. Even now, she had to keep her distance from people. She could never get too close in case she had to flee at the last second.

It was a rough life, but one she’d been born into. It suited her in many ways and she couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

She’d done one sweep of the club and was about to go back to her seat at the bar when the amulet flared to life. Instantly, it was hot.

He was near. Close to her.

She stopped and eyed the dancing crowd. She’d know him the second she saw him. After years of hunting demons, she knew the signs to look for. Signs the regular folk mistook for dark and dangerous allure. To Ivy it was just dark and dangerous. Nothing alluring whatsoever.

She saw him. He was dancing with two young blondes. He was tall, with longish blond hair, not handsome or ugly. Average, mostly. Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But it was the eyes that gave him away. When he turned ever so slightly to the left or the right, Ivy could see the flames in his soul.

The unholy fire that he carried within from the depths of hell.

She stepped onto the dance floor. She had to separate him from the women. If he spotted her now, he’d have no qualms about killing them right there and then.

Picking up the rhythm, Ivy danced her way through the writhing crowd. She tried not to stare directly but she needed to keep her eye on him. If she lost him now, it would take months to pick up his trail again. And more women would die. She’d already blown three previous tips because of her impatience. Something she should have grown out of years ago.

As she moved through the throng of people, someone grabbed her rear end. She stopped to glare at the guilty party. He had the presence of mind to turn and leave immediately. People didn’t usually mess with Ivy, and if they did it was only once. She didn’t suffer fools easily.

She had a reputation for being cold as steel and just as inflexible. This was probably why she didn’t have a man or even bothered to date. What man could possibly live up to any of her expectations or abide by her rules of conduct?

None that she’d met so far.

The song changed tempo. The demon wrapped his arms around the two women and they slow danced together. His back was to her, which afforded her an opportunity to walk right up to him. And she did.

She tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and smiled at her. She tried to keep her face unreadable, a mask of indifference, when really she fumed with rage just being next to him.