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A Demon Huntress Novel
A demon attack…
Reeling from a personal tragedy and abandoned by all she loves, the world's newest demon huntress, Gin Crawford, sinks into a deep despair.
She’s forced back to reality by news of a large number of people committing suicide, all on the same night. Suspecting demon involvement, Gin must work with her sexy but estranged mentor Aidan Smythe to track who, or what, is behind the deaths.
Leads to a new discovery…
As they come closer to finding the culprit, they realize their employer, the Agency, is hiding its own secret, one which threatens Gin's very existence. New discoveries reveal that even those dedicated to eradicating evil can be bought. Can Gin and Smythe forgive each other and work together or will they fall under the demon's thrall?
Page Count: 250
Word Count: 60848
Not a hallucination.
A vision of an auburn-haired man dressed in dark trousers and a gray button-down, appears in my head. He sits on my closed toilet lid, watching me sleep in the full tub, watching as my head slides closer to the waterline.
It must be a dream. How else can I be asleep and still see the bathroom, my sleeping self and the man? A dream. Only a dream. His voice is nothing more than my imaginings.
And yet I feel the need to answer. To deny his words.
I’m not listening to you. I make an effort to rebuke the voice, refusing to take what it offers, refusing to admit its enticing pull.
Oh, but you are. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze firmly affixed to my face. You contemplate my words. You seek the rest only I can give.
Yeah, right. Not buying it, buster. Although I’m starting to want what he offers. I’ll never admit it to Mystery Man. What can a figment of my imagination really do?
I am not a figment. He smiles, his lips pulling away from straight, white teeth.
Despite the warm water, a chill runs down my spine. He holds out his hand.
Come. Take my hand. Rest. Leave your problems behind.
His fingers beckon, a gentle call to relax. I shouldn’t take him up on his offer, but maybe he’s right. Maybe resting is all I need. Maybe I should listen to a mysterious man sitting on my toilet lid, begging me to take his hand.
Maybe he really can take me away from myself, from my pain, from the knowledge I majorly screwed up.
I open my eyes, meeting the man’s gaze. Yep, the man sits on my toilet lid, but I’m still not convinced this is anything more than a dream. And in my dreams, I can have all the relaxation and relief from my screwed-up life I can get. I reach out a hand to him. His smile widens into a sinister grin.
Right before he grips my palm, the bathroom door slams open, ricocheting against the wall. The man disappears as if he never existed, leaving my hand hanging mid-air. My twin, T, stands in the doorway, his icy glare chilling the room.
I let loose with a little squeak and yank the shower curtain closed while the anger in T’s low voice reverberates against the walls.
“What the fuck are you doing, Gin?”
“Taking a bath?” I poke my head outside the curtain.
“Like hell.” His fingers whiten as he grips the doorknob. “Who was talking to you?”
“You came back.” Maybe things aren’t so bad. My twin returned.
Of course he still looks as mad as when he left.
Things apparently remain bad between us.
His jaw flexes. “Who were you talking to?”
“No one was here. Just a dream.”
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