Page 8 of Haunting the Hunter
Just my luck.
I head back to the bathroom, only to find water spilling over the edge of the tub, soaking the floor.
“Fuuuuuuuck.”
After spending twenty minutes cleaning up the massive mess I made, I give up on the bath and opt for a shower instead. I attempt to wash away the lingering unease under the hot water, to get myself to feel a little more human.
Freshly dressed and somewhat calmer, I settle onto the living room couch with my favorite book,Death, the last book in the Four Horsemen series. I flip it open, hoping to lose myself in the words—but after reading the same sentence four times, I drop it in my lap, frustrated. This sucks. Of course I would attract a fucking poltergeist. I’ve done nothing my entire life. No job. No purpose. No luck. Just existing in the background.
Easy to overlook.
My only redeeming quality is my dreams. They have always held weight—flashes of things before they happen, like a twisted form of déjà vu. I’ve always been able to sense when something is coming, like a strong gut instinct. Maybe not the best judgment… But it’s always given me a sense of pride.
And right now? My gut is screaming that something ishere.
Setting my book aside, I head back to my bedroom and pull open the top drawer of my nightstand. My fingers brush against the cracked leather of the old grimoire. One of the many artifacts my brother took after we left the house where everything fell apart.
I sit down on the bed, my heart pounding. I take a steadying breath before opening the book at random, the pages crackling beneath my fingertips as they settle on a section about demons. Thinking back to my dream, my stomach twists.
Oh, hell no.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Snapping the book shut, I press my palm flat against the cover.
I may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I sure as hell know a red flag when I see one. Maybe I can ignore it. If I don’t feed into it, then it will get bored. Because unequivocally:Fuck. That.
“I do not claim any bad energy. You hear me?” My voice is firm, but there’s a tremor beneath the surface I can’t quite hide.
Silence.
Not even the hum of the fridge or the distant tick of the hallway clock. A bitter laugh escapes my lips as I push myself upright. Soft golden light spills through the window. Morning already. I could really use some breakfast.
I tuck the grimoire back into its hiding place and head toward the kitchen.
A sudden creak breaks the silence, the sound crawling up my spine like cold fingers. The air thickens and my heart pounds as I turn to find the drawer cracked, grimoire lying open again… this time on the section about a demon named Alabaster. I linger on the image for a moment, stuck on his eyes—his golden eyes.
CHAPTER 3
ALABASTER
Oh, this is almost too perfect. Her fear makes this all the more enjoyable.
Don’t worry, pretty girl.
You’ll have me soon enough.
I can’t help but fixate on her heart racing, knowing it’s me it’s working so hard for. I hover behind her and look down at the cursed book in her hands, watching as she gawks at the terribly drawn portrait of me. This is how they know my name… As frustrating as it is that I am there in the first place, they could have at least done me justice.
My nose looks nothing like that.
My initial enjoyment is quickly broken when I feel an unwelcome presence approach from behind.
“Your obsession with this one is concerning.”
I smirk to myself, flashing my teeth. Alok knows I’ve been watching her. He finds it curious that I’ve been creeping in her shadow for so long… longer than any other human I’ve watched.
He can stay curious.
