(SPECTR 1) Hunter of Demons by Jordan L. Hawk Page B

finding the NHE. Mr. Jansen?”
    “I can do it.” Anything to get out of this alley-turned-slaughterhouse.
    “At last.” Anticipation spilled over from Gray, washing along their nerves. The demon’s trail was clear as a black line drawn on the air, on the earth, a track of corruption which made their mouth water with hunger. They needed to move, to run—
    No!
    Caleb stumbled, trying to force his legs to move at a quick walk instead of the faster-than-human sprint Gray wanted. We can’t just take off.
    “It will escape!”
    We’ll catch it. But I don’t like the way Kaniyar is looking at us. If she decides you’re a threat, there won’t be any hunting demons from inside a Spec cell.
    Gray snarled, but subsided. A little. He was still just under the surface; Caleb felt as if he had both hands gripping a tiger’s scruff, struggling to hold it back.
    The trail led back to East Bay Street and turned south. Caleb gave in to Gray’s impatience and broke into a jog, but neither Starkweather nor Kaniyar called out for him to slow.
    Anticipation. “ The demon is nearby.”
    They turned down a side street and the dark bulk of a park appeared before them, nestled against the seawall. A huge cruise liner loomed up to the left, and the lights of ships showed against the darkness of the ocean ahead. Had the lycanthrope taken refuge in the park? Or—God forbid—made for the cruise ship?
    They broke into a run, demonic miasma heavy in their nostrils, like a cloud of burning musk. It had to be nearby—
    The scent faded at the curb, just before they entered the park. Swiveling around, Caleb trotted back the other way, forcing the two SPECTR agents to jump aside. Again it faded.
    “No. No!”
    An involuntary hiss escaped his lips. Kaniyar’s eyes narrowed, and Caleb cursed furiously. Shit, how must they—he, damn it, not they—look to an exorcist? How much could Kaniyar sense? If she thought Gray was slipping out of control…
    “Caleb?” Starkweather asked. He sounded concerned, but not worried. Not yet.
    “It’s gone.” His voice didn’t sound quite right to his own ears: too deep, too powerful. Frustration lashed through him—if they hadn’t wasted time on the dead mortal, they would have caught it!
    No. He took a breath. The anger didn’t belong to him. Except, damn it, he wanted to catch it too, the fucking thing which had killed his brother. His anger fed into Gray’s, who reflected it back to him, building and building…
    Starkweather’s hand closed around his wrist, but the fingers were gentle. “You lost the trail?”
    Caleb concentrated on the feel of Starkweather’s hand, warm against his skin. “I didn’t lose it, all right? It just ends here.”
    “The NHE must have left in a vehicle,” Kaniyar observed.
    “Dave had a van. Maybe the demon stole it.” But it couldn’t have, could it? “I figured this thing would be a mindless killer, just slaughtering everything in sight. Like a ghoul.”
    “Ghouls are definitely on the bottom of the heap in terms of smarts,” Starkweather said. “And the mindless rage you’re talking about is common in therianthropes. But it can be directed, at least for a while. Norse warriors sometimes struck deals to become arktothropes—werebears—in battle. Their enemies feared them…but so did their allies. They started off slaughtering their foes, but most of them ultimately ended up killing their own friends and relatives before being put down.”
    “Based on the condition of the body, the human host still had some measure of control when your brother died,” Kaniyar added. She stood with her gun drawn, scanning the street, as if she hoped the demon might helpfully decide to return. “His or her control is slipping, obviously, but if the human managed to force it to change back, he might appear to be perfectly normal to anyone who isn’t an exorcist or an empath.”
    Was that going to be his fate? Slowly pushed aside while Gray grew more entrenched, until