Stalked by Demons Read online

  Stalked By Demons

  Demon Hunter in Hiding Series, Book 1

  Trudi Jaye

  www.trudijayewrites.com

  Stalked by Demons (Demon Hunter in Hiding Series, book 1)

  Published 1 June 2020 by Star Media Ltd

  Copyright © 2020 by Star Media

  Cover design: PCTC Design

  All rights reserved.

  Stalked By Demons is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents, except those clearly in the public domain, are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, names, places or incidents is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Dancing with Demons Excerpt

  Trudi Jaye’s Reader Group

  Other Books by Trudi Jaye

  About Trudi Jaye

  To Peter and Zoey for always being there for me.

  1

  Leaning forward, I peer around a corner of rusted metal, hoping my prey has taken the bait. Filtered light from the full moon is easing through the dark clouds, and I push my glasses up my nose, squinting in an attempt to see better.

  I let out an exasperated breath.

  Nothing.

  All I see are looming piles of scrap metal waiting to be processed—leaving strange, spooky shadows in the moonlight—plus a barren dirt path through the middle of the recycling yard where I’m hiding. A small metal box, about a foot square with a hole in the top a couple inches wide, is sitting in the middle of the aisle. It’s vibrating softly, emitting a high-pitched sound only certain creatures can hear.

  Dogs for example.

  Glowing supernatural monsters for another.

  It should be like a siren’s call to them. At least that’s what I was going for when I invented it.

  Out of habit, I glance down at my watt-o-meter. It’s too big for my slim wrist, and looks like I borrowed a man’s watch, but it’s actually another invention of mine that traces concentrated energy. It lights up at the energy emitted by both power plants and supernatural monsters.

  I haven’t come across any of the creatures I’ve been hunting since I invented it, but I did test it out on a massive hydroelectric power station in my travels. It lit up like a Christmas tree, just like it was supposed to.

  What it doesn’t do is act like a normal watch, so I’m always getting pointed looks from people who ask me the time and I tell them I don’t know.

  Right now the watt-o-meter is dark and silent.

  Dammit.

  This is the fifth time I’ve staked out the Redwood City Scrap Metal Recycling Yard. It doesn’t get any easier; it’s dark, creepy, and the threat of being caught hangs over my head like an ax waiting to drop on an unsuspecting chicken.

  The guard has come by a couple times already, and it’s only luck I haven’t been caught. If I weren’t desperate for answers, I’d demand danger pay from the Professor.

  The only thing I have going for me is that the residual heat from the rows of crushed cars, appliances, and old machinery that have been sitting out in the early summer sun is keeping me warm. That and the set of small metal cogs I found that will go perfectly in my latest sculpture.

  Impatiently, I brush away tendrils of long hair that have escaped the rough topknot I tied it into earlier, and push my glasses back up my nose. I was so sure I’d find something here. My disappointment wraps itself around me like a thick leather jacket, darkening my mood even further.

  The recycling yard has all the hallmarks described in the old research papers the Professor unearthed. Metal. Heat. Water. Apparently the creatures are attracted to large deposits of heated metal like fungus to wet feet. My theory is that it’s something to do with the vibrations of the atoms in metal when it’s heated. But since I haven’t been able to catch one, I have no way to prove it.

  Yet.

  Aside from the metal, certain high-pitched frequencies are the only other thing that attracts them, according to the research.

  Hence the metal box.

  And the scary scrap-metal yard at midnight.

  When the Professor first dragged the waterlogged research documentation out of one of his old cardboard storage boxes, I was dubious. He has a lot of junk he’s collected over the years, not all of it useful.

  It might have had official CIA seals and the Stanford letterhead, but that didn’t mean the research was authentic. Not to mention that the notes were so damaged they were unreadable in some places.

  But when I realized that much of what the original researchers were writing about matched my own experiences, I started to get excited. It seemed to offer proof of what I’ve been searching for. At the very least, it took me one step closer to finding out exactly what kind of creature killed my parents and my best friend.

  But now, sitting here in the dark, twitching at every strange noise, I’m wondering if the research isn’t just a load of old socks. The Professor rescued the papers from the recycling bin, after all. None of the information has been verified and I haven’t seen any of the glowing creatures in the places they said to look. Who cares if it had official seals on it? Maybe there was a good reason it was in the trash.

  I shift uncomfortably, wishing I were at home, eating cookies, drinking milk, and maybe watching a movie. Spending my nights scrunched up against hot metal—hiding from guards, worrying about being arrested, and trying to find the one creature I’m truly terrified of because of some stupid quest—is getting to me. My nerves just can’t take it anymore.

  Maybe the shrinks were right after all. Perhaps I’m so far gone into my own hallucinations that I can’t tell what’s real and what’s made up.

  I move again—extremely slowly—checking to see if I’ve caught anything, or if the guard has come back.

  Nothing.

  I’ve been stuck in the same position behind this pile of scrap metal for over two hours now, and my legs have painful pins and needles. I rub them through my jeans to get rid of the prickling, but it doesn’t work. If something doesn’t appear soon, I’m never going to be able to walk again. This is my fifth visit; I should have seen something—anything—by now.

  Except I can’t quite give up on this just yet.

  I peer around the corner. Again. I was so
sure this was the place.

  Standing up, I shake out my legs. I’m risking being seen, but the pins and needles are too intense. The pain increases with the extra circulation, and I hop about, rubbing my legs and trying not to swear too loudly.

  The last thing I need is the guard turning up because he heard a noise.

  A vibration hums across my wrist and I flick my arm, trying to calm the pins and needles that seem to have transferred up my body. But it’s not pins and needles. My watt-o-meter is going off.

  I freeze.

  Either a power station has just moved into the metal recycling plant or some kind of paranormal creature has arrived. I peer around the corner again, pushing up my glasses. A large, pale-blue, glowing form is hovering over my device. It’s shaped almost like a person, with arms and legs and a head, but the glowing haze is undefined at the edges and has a bright white center that makes my eyes water.

  A freaking paranormal monster.

  In real life.

  Just like all those years ago.

  My breath gets stuck in my lungs, my eyes go dry, and my heart is pounding so hard I’m sure the creature can hear it. Memories flood my head. It’s like the last five years have all been a dream, and suddenly I’m standing next to the demon that tore apart my parents. The night is dark and cloudy, and the smell of fresh blood fills the air. The triumphant roar of that other demon from my memory is the only thing I can hear.

  For a moment I’m lost in the visions, unable to escape. The only other times I’ve seen a creature like this, it killed people I loved. I’ve spent years reliving that moment, wondering what I could have done differently.

  But if I’m going to survive right now, I have to act fast. Otherwise, I’ll be the next victim, and my years of hard work will have been for nothing. My quest will die with me.

  Taking a deep breath, I force myself to calm down. This is my chance. This is my moment. I refuse to mess it up.

  I take a step out into the alleyway, directly in front of the glowing supernatural creature. My still-recovering-from-pins-and-needles foot trips on a stray piece of pipe. I let out an awkward squawk of surprise and land heavily on my hands and knees. My glasses tumble off my nose and onto the ground in front of me.

  The world becomes a blur of shadows with a menacing blue glow coming from somewhere in front of me. Panicking, I feel around in the darkness until my hand touches the solid frames again. Breathing quickly, I shove them on my face and scramble to my feet.

  The supernatural monster is staring at me, its eyes like deep, dark holes in a face that’s becoming more solid and human-shaped even as I watch. Its lips are bared in a snarl that shows off a row of small but viciously pointed teeth. The creature is losing some of its hazy blue glow and its more substantial form is a light bronze skin-color, sort of like it’s trying to trick me into thinking that it’s human.

  Except the rest of its appearance is completely off.

  Instead of clothes it’s got metal car parts, copper wire, nuts and bolts, sprockets, and screwdrivers attached across its entire body, some of them half absorbed into its skin. Part of a steering wheel is sticking out one side, and I think I see a rearview mirror on its shoulder. Its knees and elbows stick out at awkward angles, like a kid who hasn’t quite grown into his body, and it towers over my—admittedly short—five-foot-two-inches by almost two feet.

  It should look weird and gangly, maybe a little bit funny, but instead it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. My already thundering heart is now in overdrive, and I can’t breath through my frozen lungs.

  Now that it’s changed into a more solid form, the creature is standing near the box, only a few yards away. It’s not approaching my invention, even though the high frequency sound must be calling to it.

  Its fathomless black eyes are focused on my face.

  It’s realized it has something better to play with.

  Me.

  2

  I plant my feet a little wider and clench my fists, trying to keep my expression impassive. I refuse to show how frightened I am. The creature is watching me, waiting. I’m not sure what for: maybe for me to start running.

  I’m pretty convinced that’s the last thing I should do.

  I’ve seen a creature like this in action before and there’s no way I’d get more than a few feet. But even if I didn’t know what to expect, I wouldn’t move. Because, despite the vomit-inducing fear churning in my stomach, there’s also a tiny version of me running around inside my head cheering, punching her fists in the air, psyched to have finally found what I’ve been searching for all these years.

  This is the culmination of everything I’ve been working towards.

  I refuse to fail.

  Swallowing hard, I take a step forward. I’m still a little shaky, but that’s okay. I’m only four yards from the first paranormal creature I’ve seen since the one that killed my parents.

  I thought my memories of that night were still horribly vivid, but the years have dulled them. I hadn’t quite remembered the depth of the malevolence in its dark, soulless eyes, or how it loomed over me, breathing hot air filled with death and carnage. I hadn’t remembered my complete and utter terror.

  All of a sudden, I know I’m in way over my head. I don’t have long before it rips me apart with its teeth and claws. My one chance to survive is to get it inside my device, where it can’t hurt me.

  I swallow hard. I hope my device does what it’s supposed to do.

  Taking a steadying breath, I do the opposite of what every instinct in my body is telling me to do: I step slowly forward. And again.

  It lets me approach, still watching. Its dark eyes travel up and down my body as though deciding which part of me to eat first. Hardly surprising that it’s not afraid. I’m a short, twenty-three-year-old woman wearing a Scooby Doo T-Shirt, and my only weapon is an invention I’m not entirely sure works.

  My hand goes to the pocket of my jeans, and I pull out a small rectangle remote control that I’ve kept safely hidden away. With shaking fingers I press the button on the top of the small device.

  My breath hitches. For a moment I’m convinced it’s run out of batteries or that I damaged the remote in my fall. Then the high-frequency sound emitting from the box becomes even more intense—and the hairs on my arms stand at even higher attention.

  It’s happening.

  The supernatural monster starts to shudder. Tremors roll across its body, making a clinking sound as the pieces of its metal clothing collide, and panic flares in its eyes. It glides jerkily toward the metal box, fighting the whole way, until it’s just inches from my invention. It’s designed to be just like when two magnets are attracted together, a force it won’t be able to resist.

  The remote in my hands is quivering; it’s being drawn to the box in the same way as the monster. That’s a side effect I wasn’t expecting. I clutch my fingers tighter around it.

  The creature howls, raw and guttural, its mouth going abnormally wide, showing rows of tiny yellow teeth. Its body is glowing blue again, slightly transparent, but still mostly in human form. It hovers over the hole in the middle of the device, like it’s pulling as hard as it can against the attraction. For a moment, it seems like it might be able to resist the force. Everything inside me is numb and nerveless, even my breath.

  Will it work?

  And then its feet and legs are sucked down through the hole.

  My hands are shaking so hard I’m afraid I’m going to drop the remote. I take a deep breath and concentrate on holding myself steady.

  This is it.

  I’m about to capture my first supernatural creature.

  The monster is now partially squeezed into the box, strangely distorted from large to tiny, like Aladdin’s genie returning to his lamp. The creature’s arm extends toward the remote, somehow managing to pull its body partially back out of the device. For a second it seems like it’s going to grab the remote from my hands. I jerk back out of reach, my heart lurching int
o my throat. Is the device not strong enough? Will the creature be able to drag itself back out?

  Have I failed before I’ve even begun?

  But then it’s like something is kicked up a gear inside the device, and the creature is sucked back down, its knees and thighs shrinking again and disappearing into the small hole in the top of the box. The head and torso are distorted, arms stretched out toward me like it still thinks it can save itself.

  Once the legs are completely in the contraption, its torso goes in sideways. The head is sucked downward last, its mouth still open in a scream of rage. It’s almost all the way in, but its head is stalled at the entrance, the face distorted in the strange glowing light. The metal box is shuddering and jumping like it’s possessed.

  Which I guess it is.

  Just a couple more seconds—

  “Who’s there?” a loud voice calls out from behind a large pile of cars.

  Startled, I jerk backwards, my arms swinging, and land on my butt in the dirt. The remote slips out of my fingers and hits the ground with a clunk. Something metallic shatters inside it.

  A flashlight flares across the alley, illuminating scrap metal from the darkened shadows.

  Frog’s balls. It’s the security guard.

  “What are you doing?” The security guard’s voice is high-pitched, almost hysterical, like he’s never had to deal with an intruder before. The flashlight shines directly in my face as he arrives in the alley.