The Demon Hunter Read Online Free PDF Page B

The only reason he hadn’t killed her was because he thought he might be able to use her.
    “Then what am I?” she demanded.
    “I don’t know, but until we find out, you’re coming with me.” He started toward the door, but the pain in his ribs pulled him up short. He gritted his teeth, pressing his hand to the soft material covering his chest, the only indication something was wrong. Self-preservation had taught him to hide his weakness from others. Where he came from, a broken man was as good as dead.
    “We?” The woman took a step back, her eyes flashing with anger. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
    She had a point, it was rather ridiculous to think he could force her to do anything, but he didn’t have time to dwell on particularities. He was finding answers, and only she could help. Although he wasn’t sure what the hell she was, he didn’t believe in coincidences. If he had actually traveled home, been tossed into this woman’s path… it had been for a reason, and until he uncovered that reason, she wasn’t leaving his side.
    He stepped closer, attempting to intimidate her with his size and strength. Damn it all, if she didn’t throw him off balance by her scent. Fresh air, flowers, washed body. He wanted to sink into her. To drop to his knees and beg the universe to allow him to stay. He wanted to breathe in her aura. So clean, so innocent… but it could be a ruse. Overwhelmed, he pushed away from her, stumbling back until he hit the wall. She could be a mirage produced by his broken mind. Or something produced by him. The demon responsible for this hell. Devon tore open the front door and stumbled outside into the cool, night air.
    “Where am I?” he yelled at the heavens, his voice echoing up to the sky. A cloud rolled away, showing a patch of midnight blue. White, twinkling stars mocked him from above. How long had it been since he’d seen the stars? His legs trembled and he almost collapsed to his knees.
    “Crestmoore Manner,” her soft voice startled him.
    Torn and angry, he faced her with a fury he could barely contain. “Impossible.”
    Even in the darkness of night, he didn’t miss the way she looked at him… a look of pure sympathy. He despised that look. She thought he was insane. Perhaps he was.
    Defeated, he leaned back against the stone wall of the small cottage. Although the weather was warm enough, the ground was chill and damp upon his bare feet. His teeth chattered, his entire body aching, trembling like a newborn colt. Weak. He was so damn weak. He needed rest and nourishment soon, before he collapsed completely.
    Briefly, he closed his eyes. “It can’t be.”
    Yet, even as he thought it impossible, his mind taunted that it must be true. Everything smelled too sweet. Too fresh. The air was too perfect. The night too lovely. Even the soft chirp of insects was like music. There were no insects in hell.
    He wanted to curse. He wanted to cry out. He wanted to hit something because it couldn’t be true. He couldn’t believe it. The hope would be his downfall, just as the demon wanted.
    “Listen,” she said softly, floating hesitantly toward him like some damn angel come to save his soul. How bloody ironic. “Why don’t I call someone…”
    No one could save him now and he sure as hell didn’t need the help of another angel, if that’s what she was. Reluctantly, his gaze shifted to the manor. Was his family dead? Or had he somehow traveled back in time? No, for even now he could hear an airplane overhead. So why was the woman beside him dressed as if she was from the 1860s? His brain pounded in confusion. He clutched the sides of his head. He didn’t know, didn’t understand anything.
    “Devon?”
    “Take me to the manor,” he growled.
    He needed his sword. If he could find his sword, he might not feel so damn vulnerable. If he could hold that cold metal in his hands, he would know for sure this world was real.
    Ellie actually went pale. Why? She claimed she