The Demon-Eater: Hunting Shadows (Book One, Part One by Devin Graham Page B

himself up and over as though he had
done it a hundred times before.
    Sheathing his sword, the hunter turned
from where the beggar had been atop the mound and started on his
way again. He encountered little more than the eerie sounds of
night—the occasional pattering of feet, belonging to no one he
could see, or the loud scraping of a pipe dragging the ground
somewhere in the distance—as he walked.
    The noises could have been
placed in his mind by the others, of course. They did enjoy picking the strings of
his mind, making already ominous settings all the more terrible for
him. The others could do no more than manipulate the sounds of his
surroundings—occasionally the images, also. Other than that, he had
pretty good control over them.
    They were a necessary burden, which
sort of came with his line of work.
    The hunter stopped suddenly, a
soundless shadow scurrying across the way before him, into the
deeper shadows. The overwhelming reek of rotting flesh hit him like
a punch to the gut in that moment, nearly causing him to gag. He
would have thought that smell would have no affect at all on him by
now. But, then again, something so foul could never become
pleasant, no matter how accustomed he grew.
    The hunter frowned. Had I really been so much in thought that I
missed it? Well, it was too late to be
inconspicuous now.
    The hunter stood rooted for several
moments, watching for any movement from the pool of shadows, into
which the thing had scurried. He thought he saw something within
the deep darkness, but it could have just been his eyes playing
tricks on him.
    “ Skin Crawler,” the hunter
said as one might call to a pet, taking a slow step forward. “Here,
boy. Or...girl.” A shadow, just a little darker than the shadows
behind which it hid, seemed to stir.
    “ There is no use hiding,
little demon,” the hunter continued. “You know I'm here, as I know
you are here, as well. You seriously caused a mess back at that
ball. Why reveal yourself like that, to people who don't want to be
reminded that demons still exist in their world? You've allowed
them the right of denial for decades now. Why raise questions of
your kind again to them?”
    To himself, the hunter
thought, Is it sloppiness? Or is there a
purpose behind it?
    The shadow of the demon
stirred again. This time the demon crawled closer to the edge of
darkness, its pallid, rotting, human face peeling out of the
shadows. A Skin Crawler. A demon with the ability to possess any
living creature, by infiltrating the body and killing it from the
inside.
    It stared at the hunter with eyes
devoid of emotion. Dead eyes. Its face, however—with its dangling
bits of sinewy flesh, revealing glimpses of the stark white bone of
the skull beneath—, did contort into an expression that was clearly
anger.
    It did not move to attack, but
remained hunkered like some feral creature, half shrouded in
shadow. Wary. Who was this man to chase a demon?
    “ And murdering a perfectly
respectable nobleman only to waste his body...?” the hunter began
again. Slowly, the hunter grasped the hilt of his dueling sword
once more. The demon extended a talon-like hand, its flesh barely
knit together, and crawled forward a step, humming a growl. “Why?
I can smell you,
after all. You must be needing a new body by now.”
    Aside from a terrifying
smile tearing across the demon's rotted face, its growl was his
only answer. I hate you, the hunter thought almost reflexively. Every last one of you.
    “ No answer?” The hunter
shrugged and forced a smile for himself. “Truly, I don't care why
you did what you did.” Blade scraped against scabbard, as he
unsheathed his sword.
    “ You...will...die.” the
Skin Crawler said in a distorted growl through a barely functioning
mouth.
    The hunter nodded, simply. His smile
faded, replaced by a grim expression, which he willed into another
smile. Hunting demons was his mind's only solace; it was his
happiness. And, so, he had to smile.
    “ You