A Girl's Guide to Demon Hunting by Emily Miles Read Free Book Online

especially in the early days struggling to live with the darkness. Maybe I should and just be done with it; there was no telling what tonight’s little influx of pure evil would do to me.
    Sitting back I turned my attention to where Shooter was walking with Father H out the front door. Shooter ran back to the van while Father H went to his car. I was happy he wasn’t riding with us; I felt enough shame without having to be in an enclosed space with someone as truly good as Father H this soon after the darkness.
    Shooter led the way as we left town and drove into the desert. Our headlights flashed on mile marker 167 and Shooter turned the van off the quiet two lane highway and down a dirt road. It was pitch black here, nothing but our lights as we bounced down the road. I wondered what this place looked like in the day time. I’d guess like every other patch of desert; dirt, random brush or cactus, pretty much a whole lot of nothing.  
This was Demon dumping ground; Peaches had bought a two-acre plot out here years ago when there was a Demon-on-Demon killing spree.
    Those were the longest two weeks of my life; the Demons ended up with a pile of dead bodies and I had to go into hiding, afraid of the growing darkness. Two good things came of it though; first, we now had a place to dump Demons. Second; less Demons, which always made me happy.
    There wasn’t much to getting rid of the body; dig, dump, finish it off with lye so nothing would grow and ta-da! One dead and buried Demon. Ace, Shooter and I could do that; it was the other stuff we needed Father H for, to speak the words we couldn’t. Words like forgiveness, love and grace. I couldn’t even link them and Demon in a sentence, let alone in a prayer over its dead body. Still it was a thing once born of Heaven and we respected Father H’s feelings on the matter.
    Driving back into the city, I felt my stomach begin to twist into knots as I thought of going home. As tired as my body was, I didn’t want to sleep, to face the dreams I knew waited for me.
    “Jenny’s?” I suggested breaking the silence.
    “I’m buying,” Shooter said and merged into the turn lane.

Chapter 7
    Tip 17:  Crank calling a Demon Lord is not funny. No matter what Ace and Shooter may say.
        Studio House Café was at the corner of Main and Second in the business district, far enough from The Strip, it was mainly a “locals only” hangout. It was the perfect place to get away from all the noise and lights of Vegas and just chill. Plus it was a sort of no-Demon zone; evidently they weren’t too keen on coming to a place where three Demon hunters hung out.
    Jenny’s dad bought the café a year before he was sent to prison for forgery. He’s   currently serving the second year of a five year sentence. Jenny followed in the family business and is now considered the best forger this side of the Mississippi; keep in mind the Mississippi is really far away on this side. The café is a front to hide the money she makes illegally but she still runs it like a real business. I don’t really understand how it all works, just that it does.
    The café had big comfy chairs arranged around low wooden coffee tables, along with dim lighting and acoustic music. It was the perfect place for romantic interludes or in my case relaxing with friends.
    I waved to Amy, Jenny’s only full time employee, as we all walked in. She stood on a little step ladder filling the giant coffee grinder with fresh beans. Her bright pink hair in pigtails, eyes lined with heavy black eyeliner, her pale skin glowed in the light. Wearing a   black t-shirt, bright pink tutu, and combat boots, she looked like a Goth ballerina. Ace went back behind the counter to lend her a hand while Shooter, Pancake and I went to our favorite dark corner. Falling into the soft chair, I felt myself finally relaxing.
    The door in the back marked employees only