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Chapter 4

4

As every single woman knows,when someone knocks on your door and you’re not expecting anyone—especially at night—the first rule is: DO NOT ANSWER.

Like seriously. I played dead, holding my breath, not moving. The knock didn’t repeat, and I assumed they’d left. Out of curiosity, I rose and went to my door with its little glass peephole. A glance through showed arms crossed over a broad chest. Like, really wide and intimidating.

Yeah, no way was I answering.

“I know you’re there,” growled a low male voice.

I didn’t reply because there was no way he knew. Most likely it was part of his schtick to get single women to open their door so he could murder them!

“I can hear you breathing.”

Like fuck he could.

“If you don’t open this door, I will.”

Ha. As if my door would be so easily penetrated. My apartment building might lack many things, but a solid door wasn’t one of them—as whatever had tried to claw in last night had learned. Add in my two sets of locks, and buddy would more likely hurt himself trying to kick it in than successfully enter.

“For fuck’s sake, stop dicking me around. I’ve got better things to do than stand in a hallway dealing with your cowardly ass.”

Cowardly? I pursed my lips before snapping, “I don’t know who you are, but you have the wrong apartment, so fuck off with your threats.” With that, I went back to my couch and had just plopped my butt down when the deadbolt clicked and my security chain rattled.

I gaped as my door unlocked—on its fucking own!—and the man from the hall entered. Not just any man. I stared as I recognized the scythe wielder from the night before.

The Grim Reaper, in my apartment.

Panic bubbled, and I jumped on my couch, standing on the cushion as if that would somehow give me leverage.

“Get out!” I hollered.

Rather than reply, he shut the door behind him. While he did that, I grabbed my book and flung it. “Take that, motherfucker. You chose the wrong woman to victimize.” Unlike those who screamed and cowered, I would die fighting to my last breath.

I grabbed a candle I’d never lit—out of fear of starting a fire—and tossed it. Then the couch pillow for my lower back.

Without batting an eye, he let them thump into his solid body and fall uselessly to the floor. Times like this I wish I had a samurai sword hanging over my couch like an ex-boyfriend of mine.

“Are you done having a tantrum?” the Grim Reaper asked.

“I won’t die easily,” I promised. I adopted a battle pose which, I should add, I’d copied from a movie. Half crouched, butt waggling in readiness, fists up. With my hair in a sloppy pony while I wore my sloth print pajamas. Totally intimidating.

Not.

It might be why he arched a brow. “What are you talking about?”

“You tracked me down so you could eliminate the witness. I remember you from last night. Swinging around your great big scythe.”

He held out his hands. “I’m not armed.”

“I’m not stupid. I know you keep it in your pocket.”

“I keep it stashed because, for some reason, people get a little antsy when they see it.”

“Ya think?” I hotly retorted.

“Would it help if I said I didn’t come here to hurt you?”

Actually, that did help, especially considering he hadn’t made any aggressive movements in my direction.

“Then why are you here?” I huffed. “And how did you get inside?” Because while he might have managed to get a key from my place by stealing it from my landlord, that didn’t explain how the chain had moved on its own. And before anyone claimed he used a magnet, I’d bought a non-metallic one after watching a YouTube video that went over how home invaders got through people’s security.

“I have a knack for getting into places.”

His reply brought back my unease. “Ever think that you should wait for an invitation to come inside first?”

“I asked for one. You told me to fuck off.”

“I don’t let strangers into my place.”

“A good rule to have.”

“Says the guy who ignored it,” I groused.

“Extenuating circumstances and all that. Now, if you’re done whining, can we get to my reason for visiting?”

“No.” I stubbornly shook my head. “You and your murder scythe can go away.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Not after last night.”

“Aha!” I jabbed a finger in his direction. “You are here to kill me because I am a witness.”

“What is your obsession with being murdered?” he grumbled as he paced my tiny living room. “How many times do I have to tell your pea-sized brain I’m not here to harm you? Although, your attitude is making me reconsider.”

“Fine, if you’re not here to slice off my head, then why the fuck are you in my living room?” I countered, focusing on the main point rather than losing my shit over his pea-sized comment. Fucking misogynist.

“I’m here because you can see demons.”

I blinked and rose from my crouched stance. “Uh, what?”

“Demons. You saw them last night. The ugly, bald creatures tearing apart those people on the bus.”

At his explanation, I rolled my eyes. “Oh, you mean the sewer aliens.”

His turn to blink. “Aliens?”

“Well, they’re certainly not from Earth.”

His lips quirked. “True enough.”

Despite the unlikelihood of his story, my curiosity had me blurting out, “Why did you call them demons? And how come you can see them, and I can see them, but pretty much no one else seemed to?” I mean the guy in the car had, as had that construction worker on the bus, but they were dead, leaving me the only crazy-sounding eyewitness.

“Most people can’t perceive demons because they cloak their presence.”

“Are you a demon?” Maybe the prince of darkness himself. He certainly had the looks to seduce anyone he wanted.

“No.” His brows drew together, his indignation clear.

“It’s a valid question, seeing as how no one saw you either.”

“It’s the coat. It shields its wearer.”

“Of course, it does. Silly me. Why didn’t I know the man with the giant knife was wearing an invisibility duster?” I rubbed my forehead. “I need a drink.”

I climbed off the couch and headed for my kitchen and the bottle of wine chilling in my fridge. I didn’t drink often, but when I did, I liked it ready to go. I thumped the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc on the counter, wedged out the cork, and just chugged it straight. No point in dirtying a glass, seeing as how I planned to finish the bottle. When I returned to the living room with it in hand, the big dude remained, arms over his chest, standing in the middle of the room, taking up way too much space.

“You’re still here,” I stated, taking a long pull of the wine.

“We’ve not finished discussing business.”

“We have no business.”

“Afraid we do. You saw demons.”

“Says you. And did I really? Because I also saw you chop them to pieces and yet not a single part of them was left behind. No one else saw them. All the videos I’ve seen are just blurs of fog. Which reminds me, what’s up with the fog everyone saw?” I swigged more wine, feeling the warm tingle as the alcohol spread.

“The fog is meant to obscure their presence from humans.”

“You saw the demons.” I tossed in the accusation because this whole conversation didn’t make sense.

“I see them because it is part of my gift.”

“Is killing part of your gift too?” My tongue loosened as I decimated the bottle of wine. Half gone, half to go.

“As a reaper for the Fraternitas Messorum—”

I interrupted. “The what?”

“Fraternitas Messorum. It’s Latin for Brotherhood of Reapers. Think of it as a specialty guild where its members are tasked with keeping Earth free from demonic influence. Reaper is the title given to its hunters.”

The explanation did not help, and so I flopped on the couch with my wine, which I chugged. Maybe it would help me better understand. “So, let me get this straight. You belong to a fraternity of dudes who go around killing sewer demons.”

“They’re not actually from the sewers but an alternate dimension.”

“Called Hell.”

“Actually, it’s Inferis, which might sound familiar, as it is a Latin word meaning underworld.”

“Well, shit. You think you know things, and then some stranger breaks into your apartment and tells you he kills demons for a living. Congrats! Your mom must be so proud. Still don’t see why you’re here.”

“Because you can see them.”

“So you keep saying.”

“You shouldn’t. Only gifted reapers can.”

“Oh no, a girl can do it too! What will happen to your little sausage club?” I might not be slurring my words, but I was most definitely drunk.

“You are a naturally born woman?”

“Would you like me to drop my pants and prove it?” I was only half joking. It wasn’t only the wine that had me admiring my burly visitor. Despite his long coat, I could tell he had a decent physique. And his face? Very handsome. Rugged features topped with dirty blond hair.

Rather than reply, he frowned.

“Why so grumpy?”

“More confused. You’re an anomaly.”

“Why, thank you.” Might as well treat it as a compliment.

“You don’t understand. Seeing demons? It’s always been a male trait.”

“Seems kind of sexist.”

“Yes and no. Women usually have the power of the spirit. They wield magic in our fight against Inferis. They scry the locations of incursions, heal those afflicted by demon bites and scratches, while the men actually do the physical labor of eradicating demons that cross over.”

“You know, women are just as capable of swinging a sword at a demon as a man.”

“Agreed, only they usually can’t see them on account of the fog the demons use to hide their presence.”

“I didn’t see the fog.”

“Because you’re immune to their concealing magic, which is unheard of for a woman.”

I couldn’t help a cheeky grin. “Look at me, I’m special. So does the fact I see them make me a demon hunter?”

“I don’t know. There’s never been anyone like you before.”

“That you know of,” I pointed out.

“True,” he acceded. “It’s possible that those who did see them were killed by the demons or hung as witches before anyone knew.”

A reminder that I’d barely survived the night before. It sobered me enough to ask, “What did those demons want?”

“To escape.”

“Why?”

“Because Inferis is a crowded and cruel place. Because humans are a tasty treat. Because the Demon Lords would love to rule our world.”

“Whoa. Info dump.” I waved my hands. “Not to mention, can we not call humans a tasty treat? That’s kind of gross.”

“Would you prefer I lied?”

“I’d prefer to be alone in my apartment, reading a book and pretending I never saw demons.”

“Ignoring them won’t make them go away.”

“I’ve gotten to forty-two years of age just fine not knowing about them. Pretty sure I can go back to that blissful state of mind.”

“What you want doesn’t matter. I’m here to recruit you for the fight.”

At that, I laughed somewhat hysterically. When I calmed myself enough to speak, I turned down his offer. “Listen, while I commend those who put their lives on the line for others, I’m not that altruistic. Nor am I brave or heroic. I ran and hid last night rather than help those getting slaughtered because I didn’t want to die.”

“Given your lack of training, what you did saved your life.”

“Exactly. I am not a hero, but you are, so good job, and keep up the good work.” I fist-pumped. “Now, I’m sure you have demons to kill. You know where the door is.” He’d have to show himself out. That bottle of wine went down too quickly, and I now needed to find my bed. The room appeared to have reached the spinning stage of my drinking.

“You don’t want to receive training?”

“Nope.”

“I told them they should have sent someone else,” he muttered under his breath.

It led to me squinting at him. “Why would they send you?”

“Because no one believed me when I told them you’d seen demons.”

My mouth rounded, and then I laughed. “Ha! So you thought you could drag my butt in to prove them wrong. Sorry, dude. Not happening. Like, ever.” The demons I’d seen the night before were enough, thank you. I’d prefer to never ever see another again.

“You say that now, but I’ll wager it won’t be long before you change your mind. Good evening.”

“Wait,” I hastened to say, as his long stride already had him at the door. “Here you are, barging into my place, seeing me in my jammies, and I don’t even know your name. I’m Sadie, by the way.”

“I know. It was in your employee file at the store I spotted you hiding in.”

That explained how he found me. “This is where you tell me your name.”

“I’m known as Cain.” And with that, the big, burly reaper was gone.

Just in time because I threw up the wine.

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