Page 24 of The Night Hunting

After an hourof trekking in the forest without any real direction, one thing became clear to me: the demon hunters weren’t sure where to look for Paimon and they were grasping at straws. I would definitely have done the same thing if I suddenly hadn’t remembered one detail. I knew a certain fallen angel who had been around a lot of demons in the past couple of years.

I called Ariella.

She didn’t answer right away, but I left a voice message. An hour later, when the sun was setting and the chill of the night blew around the forest, Ariella called me back. Thankfully, I still had a cell signal.

I explained to Ariella what was going on and asked if she had heard anything about Paimon and his allies.

“Actually, I have,” she said, her tone clipped.

My breath caught. “You did?”

“Where are you?”

“Around Winnipeg.”

“Shit. Can you come to Denver in about an hour?”

That wouldn’t work. “Give me two and I’ll be there.”

“Great. See you then.”

I turned to Doreen and Thierry. “I might have a lead.”

They both stared at me as if I was speaking another language.

“What do you mean?” Thierry asked. He had short black hair and brown eyes.

“We need one of the warlocks to open a portal for us,” I said.

“A portal to where?” Doreen said. The wind ruffled her red-orange hair.

“Denver.” I started walking back.

“Shane, wait.” Thierry caught up with me. “Our orders are to search for Paimon.”

“That’s exactly what we will be doing, but more efficiently.” I halted and faced them. “Believe me when I say this: no one wants to catch this demon more than I do. I’m not joking around. Come with me and see it for yourself.”

* * *

“Fine place,”Doreen said, eyeing the dilapidated barn with peeling brown paint, a rickety porch, and a hanging sign twisting in the breeze by one chain.

“I didn’t choose it.” I walked past her and Thierry, entering the place. I bet Ariella had chosen it because it looked like an abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere.

After we crossed the portal into Denver, Ariella texted us the address to this bar. It was just outside of Denver, but to get there we had to rent a car. While we drove there, Doreen told me how supernaturals borrowed cars instead of renting them. I guess I would have done that if I was trying to hide.

As soon as I stepped through the door, the scent of cheap beer, cigars, sweat, and sweet perfume hit my nostrils. I wrinkled my nose, choking on the foul air. That was what I got for having a wolf’s sense of smell. There were games to the right—pool tables, foosball, and darts—counter-height tables and stool chairs to the left, and a bar at the back. Behind it, we could peek at a kitchen where smoke curled up from the order pass-through.

There were a few patrons, looking just as raggedy and decaying as the bar. Low country music played in the speakers and a couple danced beside the bar.

Ariella waved at us from a table in a dark corner.

Despite everything going on, I walked to her with a smile on my lips. I hadn’t had much contact with the fallen angel, but she had been a pretty good friend to pretty good friends of mine. I had seen and spoken to her a handful of times, and every time, she seemed a little uptight and focused on her mission—to find her stolen wings. Without them, she couldn’t go back to the place we called heaven.

For many years now, she had been on Earth, searching, fighting demons, tracking them, trying to find the ones who had stolen her wings in the first place, without any success.

She stood from her chair and embraced me. “It’s good to see you.” She patted my back. “I’m sorry about Raika.”

I pulled back, looking at her. She looked the same—a head shorter than me, with a lean frame, silver-gray eyes, and white-blond hair. She wore leather pants and a blouse, and looked way too well-dressed for a shanty dive bar.

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