The Demon Hunter Page 5

  Coming to his senses, Devon tore his mouth from hers.

  “From Glen to Glen…” The maid strolled through the foyer, her footsteps slow and unhurried.

  Their breathing was harsh in the small closet, so harsh, surely the maid would hear them. “What the hell was that for?” she hissed, as if she hadn’t been kissing him in return.

  “A lapse in good judgment.”

  Ellie was silent for a moment, as if his comment had actually hurt her. “Screw you,” she whispered.

  “Just listen to me,” he said, pressing his lips to her ear.

  He could hear her grinding her teeth again. Even though it was dark, he swore he could see her eyes flashing with anger. He waited for one long moment as the footsteps faded. Finally, he stepped away from the woman as much as the small closet would allow.

  “I lived here… a long while ago. I left something behind. As soon as I find it, I’ll leave. Do you want to help me locate the object, or do you want me to search on my own?”

  She shoved her hands into his chest, but not strong enough to move him. Where was that strength she’d had only moments ago? “Where is it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Just wonderful.” She reached out and opened the door a mere crack. “Fine, let’s go.”

  She stood aside, allowing him to leave first. He should have known better. With his back to her, he was unprotected. He sensed her attack right before she kicked him behind the knee. He folded, falling to the ground with a thud that shook the house. He had just enough time to roll over before she was atop him, straddling his waist. Her large skirts settled around them like a deflated hot air balloon. Shocked and slightly thrilled, he merely allowed her to believe she had the upper hand.

  “Now you listen here.” Her hair fell around her face like a velvet curtain as she latched onto his shirt. “You’re going to leave and you’re going to leave now.”

  “Hello? Is anyone there?” the maid yelled from the back of the house.

  Ellie jerked her head toward the kitchen. “Hell,” she whispered, her hands tightening in his t-shirt. “Now you’ve done it.”

  Chapter 4

  Ellie scrambled from Devon’s hard body. Her heart slammed wildly in her chest, but she wasn’t quite sure if it was because of their kiss or the fear that Lord Templeton would find them.

  Their kiss.

  She resisted the urge to groan as she stared down at Devon in horror, her resolve completely shaken. A lock of blond hair had fallen across his forehead. His chest rose and fell with each sharp intake of his breath. He seemed just as stunned as she, or perhaps it was his injuries giving him that pained expression.

  Ellie curled her fingers, resisting the urge to touch her lips. Her mouth still tingled from the pressure of his lips. What the hell had he been thinking to kiss her? What the hell had she been thinking to kiss him back? Miranda was right; she needed to get laid if this insane man was capable of heating her insides. Talk about desperate.

  The floorboards overhead squeaked once more. For one brief moment their gazes locked. Finally, fear pushed its way to the forefront of her mind and she stumbled back, as if distance would make her forget his touch. At the moment she had more important things to worry about than their kiss. Devon jumped to his feet, with an ease that belied his injured state.

  “Come on.” Ellie grabbed his hand and jerked him into the dining room. The long table that had been left behind by the previous owners was covered with a dust cloth. The thick, velvet curtains were threadbare, smelling of age. The few times she’d been in the room, she’d felt rather sad. A dining area devoid of life. Lord Templeton was too crabby and bitter to have guests to dinner. And so it sat with only memories of another life, another family.

  Ellie closed the door behind them. “I swear, if you get me fired, I’ll kill you.” Sliding her hand along the papered wall, she flipped up a switch. A small lamp in the corner of the room glowed weakly, adding some warmth to the area.

  “That threat has lost its meaning,” he said wryly.

  Frustration fought with confusion. She didn’t understand his comment, but then she didn’t understand much about this night. How did one talk rationally with a crazy person? She gripped the front of his t-shirt, pulling him so close she could smell his musky scent. A scent that did odd, not exactly unpleasant, things to her insides.

  “Please, I’m begging you to keep quiet.”

  He scowled and shrugged her off, stepping away from her touch. Considering their kiss, she’d assumed he’d at least been attracted to her. Obviously not. He looked more disgusted. She, on the other hand, felt branded. Ugh, she was damn pathetic.

  “Then help me,” he demanded. But there was something underneath the hardness of his voice, a plea… almost…that hit her in the chest like a punch. Those blue eyes held hers in an unrelenting gaze that warmed her in a way she didn’t dare study. Did she have a choice but to help him? The sooner she assisted him on this insane mission, the sooner they could part ways. And it was way obvious that she needed to get far, far away from this man.

  “Fine! What, exactly, are you looking for?” Even as she said the words, she grimaced, knowing it was too late to back out now.

  “A sword.”

  “Dear God, please tell me I just misheard you.”

  “A sword,” he repeated.

  “Of course you’re looking for a sword.” She released a manic laugh. “Why…why not a gun? Or… or a grenade? There’s a fortress down the road with a cannon.”

  He didn’t respond, merely crossed his arms over his broad chest. Although he still trembled, there was a hard determination in his gaze that made her uneasy. He truly was going to do this search with or without her. She spun around and paced away from him, needing space. Of course she could always call the police. But what if he told them of her strange powers? No, it wasn’t a chance she could take.

  “Yeah, give the insane man a sword,” she said under her breath. “Good idea.”

  A soft mumble of conversation came from the hall, giving her pause. For one long moment they didn’t speak, merely waited. She flexed her fingers, attempting to ease the tightness of her skin. Her body wasn’t her own. Her entire soul seemed to hum from within. Until she could control herself, it was best to stay far away from others. The conversation faded as the housekeeper and Lord Templeton parted ways.

  “If you help me find this sword,” Devon whispered, “I’ll leave.”

  She narrowed her eyes, attempting to read his sincerity. “Is this some sort of weird pick up line? You ask me if I want to see your sword and drop your pants? Cause been there, done that.”

  He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the right time for a joke. “So where would this sword be located?”

  He rubbed his hands over his face. He was exhausted. He might put on a good show, but it was obvious he was in a bad way. And by the way he’d rubbed his ribs, she was pretty sure he was injured as well. “I can’t be sure, but my first guess would be my private chamber.”

  “Your…” But he was already walking through the door that led into the back hall. “Private chamber?”

  She rushed after him. What the hell had she gotten into? She should have called the police when she’d had the chance. Being deported back to the U.S. would be better than being in this I Love Lucy episode gone bad. She darted a quick glance up and down the dark hall, making sure they were alone, then raced after him. “So, you’re saying you used to live here?”

  He didn’t wait for her, but continued a steady pace toward the back of the hall where the servant’s steps were located. Weird, that he would know that. “Yes, precisely.”

  Precisely, who said precisely? And how could he admit such information in such a calm manner, as if they were discussing the weather?

  “This sword was left behind when you moved?”

  He paused on the first step, his hand resting on railing. The confused look upon his face didn�
�t bode well. “I believe so.”

  “You believe so?” she whispered furiously.

  He started up the narrow steps into the darkness of the second floor and because she had no alternative, she followed. They were chasing after a sword that may or may not be in the house? This was so not going to end well.

  “And how long ago did you live here?” she whispered, reaching his side when he made it to the hallway. If he was lying, she’d catch him in the act. Hopefully she could uncover the truth before Lord Templeton uncovered them.

  “A long time ago,” he said softly.

  Was that emotion in his voice? The old floorboards creaked with each step they took, making Ellie cringe. As they started down the hall, Devon’s footsteps slowed. She was about to urge him onward when she caught sight of his face. His features had lost that hard edge, softening with an emotion that looked deceptively like sorrow.

  “It has… changed,” he whispered.

  She glanced around the hall, wondering what he could see that she couldn’t, what he remembered. She sure as heck couldn’t imagine him as an innocent child skipping down the halls of this dour estate. But whatever he felt was real to him. Hell, maybe he had really lived here. Maybe he wasn’t insane. Of course that didn’t explain why he had been naked or where he had come from.

  Devon reached out and trailed his fingers over the wall. Lord Templeton had had the wainscoting removed and a fresh coat of dull beige placed upon the walls. The scent of paint still hovered in the air, but underneath was the smell of age. Slowly, Devon’s gaze traveled to the ceiling where new stained glass lamps hung. Brilliant and beautiful when lit, but dark now.

  “Lord Templeton just had the hall painted.”

  He paused in the middle of the corridor, as if he meant to hang out and reminisce. Ellie shifted in unease, worried Devon was having some breakdown, more worried that they’d be caught. “So, where was your room?”

  Eager to get the man moving, she rested her hand on his bicep and urged him forward.

  He pulled away from her, his face drawn in bemusement. Always flinching when she touched him. She tried not to be offended. But really, his hot and cold attitude was beginning to annoy.

  “There.” He nodded toward the door closest to them. A door she’d never been through, but then that wasn’t surprising. Although Lord Templeton had no problem allowing the public to traipse through the gardens, he didn’t allow many into his home. She’d always found it sad that the old man was letting this large mansion go to waste.

  Devon pressed the palm of his hand to the door and closed his eyes.

  Time was certainly of the essence, but for some reason, the moment called for silence. Was he using some sort of powers to sense something? She hadn’t a clue what Devon was, but it was obvious he was something unique. He called her different, but he was the one who was different.

  He reached for the handle and pushed the door wide. The hinges squeaked high and irritating, calling out in protest. Instead of eagerly bursting inside, Devon merely stood on the threshold, staring into the room where he had supposedly lived.

  “We need to hurry,” Ellie finally said.

  At her urging he stepped into the room, only to pause in the middle. Maybe it was all too much for him. Ellie shut the door behind them and flipped on the switch. If they didn’t find the sword here, would he insist on continuing his search? As curious as she was, she couldn’t let that happen.

  With a sigh, she studied the area. It was a large room with a stone fireplace on the far wall and a four poster bed nestled against the opposite side. Nothing else decorated the room. Unless this supposed sword was under the mattress or stuffed up the chimney, and wouldn’t that just shock dear old Santa Claus, then the room was a lost cause.

  But apparently Devon wasn’t one to give up. He moved toward the windows, his footsteps slow and unhurried. From somewhere down the hall a floorboard creaked. Ellie jerked her gaze toward the door, her heart slamming madly. Lord Templeton would think they were robbing him blind. The old jerk was always worried about thieves, as if he had anything worthwhile to steal.

  “Listen, you’re way too pretty to go to jail,” she whispered. “So unless you want to be someone’s bitch, I suggest you hurry it up.”

  Devon seemed unconcerned and knelt, lifting the frayed carpet that covered part of the dusty floorboards. He slid his fingers between the cracks of the boards and using his fingernails, lifted a plank unveiling a long, dark space, perfect for hiding something. Unfortunately, it seemed empty. She glanced warily at him, a million questions racing through her mind. How had Devon known the space was there? No way it was luck. Dear Lord, had he been telling her the truth? Had he lived here?

  “Blast it,” he whispered, dropping the board back into place.

  “It’s not there, Devon.” He didn’t respond, but she felt his disappointment all the way to her toes. It was as if his feelings were her own. Strangely enough, it was as if she actually wanted him to find a sharp metal weapon.

  “I know it’s not here,” he said, standing. “I knew all along, I merely…” He shook his head.

  He merely hoped. She knew the feeling well. When all seemed lost, one couldn’t help but cling to that small piece of hope. She actually felt sorry for him. She’d been running her entire life, jumping from home to home in her desperate attempt to hide whatever the hell she was. She’d rarely had time to form a bond with anyone. But for some inexplicable reason, she felt bonded to this man, whether she wanted to be or not. And he was bonded to his house, this sword.

  Footsteps thumped in the hall. Definitely not the house settling. Frantic, Ellie searched for a hiding place, but Devon— the ridiculous man—stood with legs braced apart as if preparing to do battle. The door creaked open, a loud, screeching noise that raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

  They were too late.

  “Who is there?” Lord Templeton called out, shuffling into the room. His bushy white hair stood on end and his long robe trailed across the floorboards, wavering around his paisley silk pajamas. He was like a little troll playing dress up.

  Ellie didn’t move, as if she stayed frozen in place, he wouldn’t notice her standing there in the middle of the room. The old man’s faded blue eyes fell on Devon first. The look of annoyance turned into a look of fear. Templeton sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled back into the wall. She didn’t blame him. Devon looked like a fallen angel who had just crawled out of the depths of hell. Lord, just what she needed, for Lord Templeton to have a heart attack.

  “Sir,” Ellie called out, stepping forward. “I can explain.”

  The shock gave way to an anger that made his jowls quiver. “No need. I know perfectly well what you’re doing here.” He pointed his knobby finger at her. “I knew you were a bad seed the moment I laid eyes upon you!”

  Bad seed? Really, that was overdoing it a bit. Ellie stepped in front of Devon, as if she could hide the big, blond God in the room. “He merely wanted to see the house. I didn’t think you’d mind—”

  “Mind!” The old man roared, his hands fisting. “Of course I mind!”

  He was trembling, practically foaming at the mouth.

  “He used to live here—”

  “But he doesn’t now!”

  Ellie sighed. Why even try to save her job? He’d wanted her out for weeks now and he finally had a concrete excuse. God, she’d have to find another job, or be shipped back to the states.

  “She’s lying,” Devon quite rudely pushed her aside. “She wasn’t merely showing me the place.”

  Ellie’s mouth dropped open. Seriously? That was how he repaid her? “Thanks for the help,” she snapped. “So glad I risked my job for you.”

  He didn’t even glance her way. No sign of regret or apology on his handsome face. Hands on his slim hips, he studied the area, looking from the ceiling, to the floor with a casual disinterest as if he was thinking of buying the place, or as if he owned the manor. His arrogance really wasn’t helping
matters.

  “You can show yourselves out immediately or I will be forced to phone the police.”

  “I shall leave,” Devon proclaimed calmly. “As soon as I find my belongings.”

  Ellie’s gaze jumped from Lord Templeton to Devon. It was the most polite argument she’d ever heard. She fully expected Lord Templeton to break out the tea tray at any moment. Fists would be flying, guns going off by now if she was in America.

  “Your what?” Lord Templeton sputtered, looking quite offended.

  “Belongings.” Devon started toward the door.

  Lord Templeton scurried back, hovering against the wall in a puddle of sagging skin and dripping silk. “I’ll call the police! Help! Help! He’s…He’s an intruder!”

  Devon sighed and paused as if annoyed, which was rather ridiculous considering the fact that they were breaking into Lord Templeton’ home. “The objects from the family who originally owned this estate…where are the possessions now?”

  Lord Templeton clenched his nubby hands together, trembling so hard, she thought his false teeth might clatter to the floor. “You will leave!” he demanded.

  Devon placed his hands on his hips once more. “Tell me now old man, or you will regret it.”

  “Are you joking?” She shoved her fists into Devon’s chest. “You’re threatening an old man?”

  “Sixty-five is not old,” Lord Templeton muttered.

  She turned toward him. “Seriously? You’re worried about your pride now?” He shrugged and looked away. “Oh hell, just answer him so we can leave!”

  Lord Templeton sputtered long and loud. “It’s gone. It’s all gone. Sold in auction.”

  Devon’s arrogance faded, the emotions quite evident in his blue gaze. Ellie took a hesitant step forward, for some reason feeling as if he needed her. He looked so damn disappointed as he leaned against the door frame.

  “A sword, did you see a sword?” he asked.

  Lord Templeton nodded, his eyes narrowed. No doubt he was wondering if the sword had been worth more than what he had sold it for. “A man bought it. Scottish.”