The Ghost Hunter (28 page)

She couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but stare into his shimmering green eyes. Would he kill her? Or would he turn her into one of his kind? She wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“Ashley!”

Vaguely she was aware of someone calling her name, but her body and mind had grown oddly numb, as if she was merely watching the events unfold. This is how it would end. It was over. Like Jean, she’d be mauled to death by a werewolf.

His mouth opened and she stared down the dark cavern of his throat. She closed her eyes and waited. A soft whack rent the air. The pressure on her chest suddenly disappeared. Ashley opened her eyes and sucked in a great breath of clean air. The wolf had stepped to the side and was stumbling as if caught off balance.

“There ye go, ye bloody bastard!” Cristian stood next to her, sword in hand.

Ashley didn’t question how he’d found her, or why he’d come. She merely thanked God that he had. The wolf leapt at him. Cristian raised his sword high, swinging it wide. The blade and wolf clashed together with a sickening thud. The wolf yelped. Cristian stumbled back from the impact.
 

“Ashley!” Camile rushed to her side, slipping her arms underneath her and helping Ashley to her feet.

Thrown off balance by her weight, they fell backward. Weeds and wildflowers poked Ashley in the back and face. She rolled off Camile. The witch was prime meat sprawled across the grass, but the werewolf didn’t go for her. Instead, he jerked his huge, furry head toward Ashley, only supporting her conclusion. He wanted her. From the corner of her eye she could see Camile scrambling through the weeds. Cristian was still on the trail. Ashley was alone. And she told herself it was good that she was alone, it was good that they were safe. She would die alone, but honorably.

Ashley stared directly into the beast’s snarling face and dared him. “Do it.”

Suddenly, Camile burst through the brush, a patch of weeds clutched in her fisted hands. Frantic, Ashley reached out, trying to snag her shirt as the woman raced by. “Camile, no!”

“Come on you nasty beast!”

Ashley’s mouth fell open. She’d thrown herself at the wolf for Camile’s sake and instead of escaping, the woman had been picking flowers? The wolf jerked his head toward Camile. She stumbled to a halt, her breathing heavy.

“Camile,” Cristian warned. “Back away.”

A deep rumble, sounding suspiciously like laughter, swept from the wolf’s mouth. He inched closer to the women, his lips lifting higher. With a cry, Camile burst forward and shoved the bouquet into the wolf’s mouth.

The animal’s green eyes widened. He staggered back, crouching low and gagging like a house cat with a hair ball. He looked so ridiculous with the purple blooms dangling from his mouth, a clump of soggy vegetation, that Ashley had the insane desire to laugh.

“What the hell did you do?” Cristian asked, suddenly appearing beside them.

Camile took in gulp of air, her hands resting on her knees. “Wolfsbane. There’s a reason why it’s called Wolfsbane. I remembered that it’s supposed to repel werewolves.”

“A flower? A damn flower?”

Camile nodded, her face bright with success.
   

Ashley’s gaze returned to the wolf. The animal had fallen to it’s side, a pathetic excuse for a killing machine now. Brought down by a weed. “You know, I’ve heard some really, really odd things since coming here, but that has to be the oddest.”

“Are we done playing?” Cristian asked. He seemed annoyed, although why, Ashley wasn’t sure. Was he angry because he hadn’t been the one to save the day? Was he that arrogant? Probably.

Ashley glared up at the man. “Nice time to show up.”

“Well, allow me to finish.” He lifted his sword, the blade flashing in the moonlight. With his hard gaze still pinned to them, he swiped the sword down toward the wolf’s neck.

Camile screeched. Ashley gasped. They both turned away from the bloody sight. “Oh God.” Ashley felt sick. She pressed her hand to her roiling belly. Talk about ruining a good mood. Camile slipped her arm around Ashley’s waist and helped her to her feet.

“He was after you,” Camile said softly, probably trying to change the subject away from the headless animal only feet from them.

“I know,” Ashley replied.

“Which means?” Camile asked.
 

Ashley started to respond, to say she hadn’t the slightest idea, when Cristian moved closer. His face was dour, that sword in his hands dripping dark blood to the silver grass.

The sword disappeared from Cristian’s hand. “It means we have to act now.” Cristian started down the path toward the pub.

Ashley scampered after him. “I won’t see my father destroyed.”

“Ye won’t have to, if we release them both at the same time.”

Dare she trust him? But as quickly as her excitement came, it faded. Even if her father was released, it wouldn’t be the kind of reunion she’d dreamt of. Her father was in that vault, but it was only his spirit, not
him.
She’d never have the chance to see her father again. Unless…

Her heart slammed erratically against her ribcage as her gaze slid to Camile. Her friend was frowning as they walked side by side, following Cristian. Camile had brought
Devon
back from the dead, she could bring Ashley’s dad back as well.

“I don’t know,” Camile said as the pub came into view. “I think we need more time, we need to gather more people.”

Cristian released a frustrated sigh and stopping, faced them. “We don’t have time. You want to know why that werewolf attacked ye?” He looked directly at Ashley. “Because the underworld has realized how powerful ye are. They’ve put a bounty on yer head.”

“Rose is outside. Half the town is binding the house with pure energy, the other half is fighting off any unwanted visitors that might try to break through,”
Devon
explained.

The man had been unchained for they needed his help, but Cristian could tell he was nervous about his newfound freedom. Cristian frowned, pacing the small basement. So many on their side, but would they be enough? If
Devon
turned, they’d be down another man. The town was undisciplined, hadn’t fought in years.

But it didn’t matter much. He wouldn’t be here to witness their battle. If the demon escaped, that would mean he was dead. It would mean Ashley was unprotected.

He paused near the door, the symbol burned there by his own hands. If he died, most likely Ashley would as well. No, he wouldn’t die. He would not let his father win. No longer was he merely fighting for himself and humanity, but now he was fighting for something altogether unfamiliar and he feared he knew exactly what that feeling was…love.

He balked and spun around on his heel.
Love.
Who the fuck would have thought he’d had it in him? Of course angels were capable of love, but it was a different kind of love. A love for all. A love for the world, for peace, for justice. But this… Shite, this was totally different and it was definitely frowned upon.
 

He sensed Ashley’s presence before he saw her. A whisper of awareness that swept over him, almost like a warm breeze. He turned. She stood at the top of the steps with Camile at her side. For one long moment he and Ashley merely stared at one another, emotion flashing between them…confusion, weariness and something more… dare he hope affection?
 

She started down the steps, breaking their connection. Each step closer sent his heart racing faster. It was ridiculous. He needed to have his wits about him when he went into that tunnel. He couldn’t worry about her. But how the hell would he concentrate when she was wearing some sort of tight black pants that hugged her arse? When she was looking at him with such trust that it humbled him?

“We’ll need a witch in case we have to do a spell,” Devon said.

Camile smiled, but it was a halfhearted smile. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Camile and Devon will stay behind in case…” Cristian explained. In case he and Ashley were killed, although he didn’t dare say that out loud. Human’s tended to overreact when they realized they might die. Not that they didn’t know. Hell, he could see the fear lingering in the backdrops of their wide eyes…constantly worried. “Let’s go then.”

Cristian moved to the door before someone came to their senses and ran the hell out of there.

“No! Wait!” Ashley cried out.

Shite. Too late. With a sigh, he turned. “What?”

“It will throw you, if you touch it. The door.”

So she wasn’t thinking of running, merely warning him. An odd lump of emotion settled in his chest, something he didn’t have time to dwell on at the moment. “Glad to see you care.” He pressed his palm to the symbol. The door made a weird groaning noise, then popped open just an inch.

“I closed it, only I can open it.” He pushed the door further open, the hinges squeaking in protest. His heart slammed against his ribcage as he looked down that dark tunnel, the stones glistening under the low light coming from the basement. His nightmare. Even though she didn’t touch him, he felt Ashley tremble. Her nightmare as well.

“Ye can do this, Ashley.” She didn’t look at him, her gaze pinned to that tunnel, but she did manage to give him a quick nod.

He went in first, crossing that threshold he hadn’t been through in years. He didn’t know what he expected to feel the moment his feet hit the stone corridor. But he wasn’t supposed to
feel,
was he? Human’s felt, it was their downfall. He was a warrior with a job to do and nothing was supposed to stand in his way. Not ghosts pleading their cases, not his own father, and certainly not a woman. Yet, here he was watching her, instead of watching the tunnel ahead. Before he’d met Ashley death had been welcome. Now… now the thought of dying felt too much like leaving this world… leaving her.

“Ashley.” Cristian gripped her upper arms, forcing her to look at him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She nodded again, her gaze taking on a hard look of determination. “Let’s get this over with.”

There she was, the kickass woman he’d come to admire. Cristian held out his hand, palm up. A glowing orb of fire burst to life.

Ashley quirked a brow. “Well that’s new.”

“We can command the basics: fire, water, wind, rain.”

The fireball lifted from his palm and floated ahead of them, lighting the way. “Let’s go.”

The rock walls sparkled with condensation. He knew every inch of this space, had memorized it that fateful night when he’d been forced to kill his own father. He knew they were slowly going downward although you could barely feel the descent. He knew the tunnel would flare left ahead. He knew beyond that bend, the ceiling was so low he’d have to duck.

“Remember to show no fear. He feeds on fear,” he said.

The floor sloped, taking them further and further into the darkness, into the earth, into the pit of hell. Cristian’s fireball bounced in front of them, merrily leading the way, the only spot of brightness in the dreary corridor.

“Was it really a church?” Ashley whispered, interrupting the sound of dripping condensation.

“Yes,” he replied. “It was the safest place to contain him. The strongest.”

“And my father?”

“He’s in there, bound to the demon. When I release the vault, they’ll both be released as spirits.”

The demon. Not his father, but
the demon
. When had he stopped calling him Father? The day he’d realized the man was no honorable warrior. The day he’d realized that they had been sent to earth, punished, because of angels like good ole’ dad. They turned the corner. It would only be a matter of moments now.

“He’ll try to get into yer head. He’ll try to trick ye. He’ll try whatever it takes to frighten ye. Don’t let him.”

“You can’t be—”

“Shhh.” Cristian held up his hand and paused.
 

The tunnel flared into a wide room of glistening gray stone. From somewhere water dripped…dripped….dripped. The fireball swept upward, highlighting paintings of angels on a domed ceiling. The place was beautiful, stunning, but there were no pews in this church. Merely a large circular room with a rectangular stone container in the middle of the floor.

Cristian’s pulse pounded in his ears, thundering so loudly that he was sure the sound would echo against the walls. Only he had known what that stone container held. It was a plain coffin with a gold cross upon the lid. Silence settled heavy into the room, yet behind that silence was an odd sort of buzz in the air…like an electrical current.

“They’re in there,” Ashley whispered.

It was more of a statement than a question. She knew the answer. The room practically vibrated with energy, an energy that hummed through his body, an energy that was coming from that coffin. She felt it too.

Cristian didn’t respond, merely held out his arm. His sword appeared in hand, the weight reassuring. Finally, he looked her way, reminding her that she was not merely a voyeur, but a player in this recital. “Ready?”

She took in a deep, shaky breath and nodded.
 
 

He didn’t pause, he wouldn’t give her time to rethink. Grasping the hilt with both hands, Cristian lifted his sword high. The blade flashed eerily under the light of the fireball above. With a cry more animalistic than human, he shoved the point of the blade into the middle of the cross. The sword easily pierced the stone, sliding through the gold and granite like a hot knife through butter. For a split second nothing happened.

A low creaking moan vibrated the room, making the floor tremble. Ashley stumbled, falling off balance and slamming into a wall. Hell was breaking loose.

Gritting his teeth, Cristian yanked the sword from the lid.

A jagged line cracked up and down the coffin, separating the stone in two.

Suddenly, a brilliant blue light burst from the lid, dancing around the room in soft waves and highlighting the paintings above in an eerie glow. It was starting.

“Do ye see anything?” Cristian demanded.

Ashley glanced frantically around the room, then shook her head. Before he could question her further, golden particles streamed from the crack in the coffin, swirling up on a beam of pure light. Stunning, but he knew it was a ruse, something conjured by dear old dad to put them at ease.

“It’s beautiful,” Ashley whispered, stepping forward.

“Stay back,” Cristian demanded.

A sudden murmur of words whispered through the room, words Cristian couldn’t understand. A spirit speaking. He narrowed his eyes, his pulsing beating fiercely.
Come on, ye bloody bastard, show yourself.

Ashley inched closer to the coffin. “Dad?”

Cristian reached out, grasping onto her upper arm and halting her progress. “Do ye see him?”

She shook her head, her gaze flickering with confusion. “I heard his voice. He said my name.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” She was staring at the ceiling, her brows drawn together in confusion. “Around us. I can’t pinpoint the location. Cristian, is it him or is it your father tricking us?” There was a plea he couldn’t ignore in her voice. She was praying it was her father.

“I don’t know.” He released her arm and shifted his fingers around the hilt of his sword, his piercing eyes scanning the room and searching for an enemy he couldn’t see.

The golden particles drew together and a human shape emerged in the blue light. Ashley sucked in a sharp breath.

“Daddy?” she whispered.

His instincts told him it was, indeed, her father. “What’d he say?” Cristian demanded.
 

She turned wide, startled eyes toward him. “Run.”
 

The word might have stunned her, but not him. Cristian shoved her behind his back, using his body to shield her. Red light burst from the coffin, exploding around them in heated waves. He felt Ashley stumble off balance, but couldn’t get to her in time. The stone lid fell to the side with a crash that vibrated the floor and sent loose pebbles pattering to the ground.

“Daddy!” Ashley cried out, jumping to her feet.

Cristian shifted his sword back and forth between his hands. “We can’t leave,” he said, hoping Ashley wasn’t preparing to flee. “Rose and the town have bonded the area. It will be hard for him tae escape. We have tae destroy him now.”

This was their one chance to kill the demon. They couldn’t run, no matter how desperately her father wanted them to.

“I’m not leaving without my father,” she said with such determination he actually believed her.

The red light pulsed through the room, vibrant, harsh, hissing across his skin. Their nightmare come to life. A cold sweat broke out between his shoulder blades. He could do nothing but stand there and wait for dear old demon dad to make his appearance known.

“Coome on ye bloody bastard,” Cristian muttered, pacing the area, his gaze taking in every shadow, every corner.

An evil chuckle rumbled through the room, shaking the stone walls. The sound swept around Cristian, curling inside him like a snake about to spring. “Welcome home, Da.”

The fun was about to begin.

                                                                  
********

Suddenly, the room erupted, exploding around Ashley. Small pieces of rock pelted her arms and face. That red light exploded, sending her blindingly backward. Ashley’s shoulder blades hit a wall. Crying out, she slumped to the floor. Her t-shirt lifted and her skin scraped against the rough stone.
 

The numbness of shock immediately gave way to pain. Like lightning, the agony branched through her body, throbbing in time with her heart. As the silence settled and her aching body faded to numb, she hesitantly lifted her lashes. Unfamiliar darkness surrounded her. Where was she?

From the blackness, gray shapes emerged. Walls running left and right. She was no longer in the large cathedral room, but in a corridor of sorts. She tucked her legs underneath her and pushed her palms into the floor. Slowly, she stood. Her mind spun with the movement, her stomach clenching. Reluctantly, she leaned back against the wall. Something warm and wet trailed down her forehead to her lips. It tasted metallic and salty.

Blood, she realized.

Her own blood.

“Cristian?” she whispered.

No response came.

Fear sent her pulse racing. No. She hadn’t agreed to this! She hadn’t agreed to being lost down here alone. She could hear nothing but the soft patter of dripping water. No evil laughter, no Cristian, no Dad. Nothing. She was completely alone.

Panic and anger mixed, chilling her insides. She pressed her hands along the damp wall, shuffling forward as much as her trembling legs would allow.