Demon Hunt Read Online Free PDF Page A

hissed beside his ear. The smug superiority in the voice annoyed him almost as much as the wards.
    Blackthorne whirled and his sword appeared in his hand. No one. “Not up to a good brawl tonight, Manus? But, I forgot, you prefer your opponents a little less able to kill you.” He swished his sword around in the air, for intimidation and in the hope that he might impale the little prick.
    The voice continued in a conversational tone. “I’ve been here for weeks, don’t you know. I was a little miffed you hadn’t arrived yet. Pearl’s been here for a while. You’d think she’d drop you a line or something. Let you know the gang’s all here.”
    The idiot droned on as the number of red eyes in the woods multiplied. Did Manius hope Blackthorne didn’t notice?
    “ How long has it been since we have been thrown together, bro? Bosnia? Afghanistan? Iraq? The Bronx? My work is so varied and far reaching since I got back - one would think you would’ve been here earlier to chase after me. You must be getting old.”
    The source of the voice changed several times during the one-sided conversation. Blackthorne grimaced. Manius was jumping from tree to tree to keep from getting a sword jammed in a very uncomfortable place. He spent an enjoyable moment thinking about the picture that kind of ‘accident’ would make. “You don’t have an accent anymore,” he remarked. “You sound American.”
    “ I’ve been watching television a lot. By the way … love the modern guy in a duster with a sword look.”
    “ I don’t have a lot of time for television,” Blackthorne replied as he prepared himself for a fight that was a bit premature. But the diminutive house was too vulnerable. “The idiot box will burn your brain out. Is that why you shortened our father’s name to Black – because you now have the attention span of a gerbil and can’t remember the original?”
    Laughter filled the air.
    Blackthorne stared up at the shadow as the dark form took to the sky, disappearing into the remnants of the storm. Drops of blood rained down onto the snow. He knew better than to hope Manius had been wounded. His brother’s voice had been swelled with the power of human sacrifice, the evidence of his crime the globs of frozen blood against the whiteness.
    As he stared down at the snow, a small hand touched his shoulder and he whirled, prepared to gut whoever had managed to sneak up on him. A smaller blade parried his sword.
    The woman holding the opposing weapon grinned as she lowered her blade. “He always could make an entrance, huh? He’s been up and about for a couple of years and already watches too much television.”
    Pure silk, the woman’s husky tones were capable of bringing most men to their knees – except for the ones on the receiving end of her pit viper temper. The sword vanished into the luxurious, dark furs she wore. An outfit for every occasion. Classic Pearl DeVere.
    “ He swished by to greet you, huh?” Pearl stepped back to allow Blackthorne time to recover from the humiliating fact that he, an honest-to-God knight, had been taken by surprise by an overdressed fashion plate half his size. “If anyone had been interested in my opinion at the time we would not even be here, freezing our butts off. Damn those old bastards for letting him live, Blackie. Only men would decide something so ridiculous.”
    Blackthorne stepped closer to her and stared down into her face. Pearl raised an eyebrow, daring him to say diddly. “You knew,” he growled. “These woods are filled with his creatures! With her here - alone.”
    His best friend Pearl. Some days, in an organization comprised of several hundred men and one woman, his only friend. Blackthorne felt betrayed. Pearl’s natural impulse was to screw with men, and he usually accepted her quirks with more grace. But he didn’t feel like dealing with her stiletto sharp cleverness tonight.
    “ Yes, Manius is still not shy about summoning hordes of the little