Deception
Demon Hunters # 2
By: A.S. Fenichel
Releasing July 7, 2015
Lyrical
When Demons threaten Regency London,
only a Lady can stop them.
Lillian
Dellacourt is beautiful, refined and absolutely lethal. She’s also the most
feared and merciless demon hunter in The Company. She’s come a long way from
the penniless seamstress’s daughter sold to the highest bidder, and it wasn’t
by trusting a man, let alone an exiled Marquis with more on his mind than
slaying the hellspawn . . .
For Dorian
Lambert, Marquis de Montalembert, being sent to keep track of Lillian is no
mean task. He’s wanted the fiery vixen since he first heard of her five years
ago. But wooing the lady while fighting the demon uprising is no easy feat,
especially when the lady’s tongue is as sharp as the Japanese sai blades
she favors for eviscerating the spawn of hell.
These two
will have to learn to trust each other fast, because the demon master is back,
and he’s planning to turn Edinburgh into a living hell…
Holding up her hand, she pulled
the horse to a stop. Dorian slowed, watched, and waited.
Lillian touched her nose,
alerting him to the scent of wood burning. The wind came out of the northeast.
The almost full moon lit the night well enough. They dismounted, and tied the
horses to a low bit of brush along the rocky pass.
Spending the bulk of his time
with the hunters behind a desk, he willingly took a step back and allowed
Lillian to take the lead. She was far more experienced in the field. The fact
that she was a woman meant nothing in The Company.
He wished he was as unaffected by
her feminine allure.
To his astonishment, she pulled a
string at her waist, which lifted her skirts, and she tucked them into some kind
of belt hidden at her hips. Above her high leather boots, he glimpsed her
creamy thighs. His gaze dropped to her curvy flesh and an array of weapons
cleverly stored insideher skirts instead of focusing on the danger ahead. He
met her gaze.
“Try to stay alive, Dorian. Do
not get distracted.”
He looked her up and down one
more time. “You ask the impossible, Lilly.”
The wicked look she gave him was
almost as enticing as the curve of her leg. She turned and climbed up the
rock-strewn hill to the right. He followed, making an effort not to admire her
bare legs or the throwing knives strapped around her right thigh. When they
reached the precipice, flames blazed as high as ten feet in the center of a
clearing. Two demons fed the fire, one a small trebox with scaly dark skin and
the other a larger, dumber malleus covered in slime. To the far left of the
fire, three children huddled together. The smallest girl wept loudly while the
other two tried to comfort her.
Alive! A surge of elation
followed by a wave of fear assaulted him. Could he and Lillian keep those
children alive?
The malleus stood as tall as the
flames and sang in a low grating tone. Firelight reflected off its slimy skin
as it tore a year old tree from the ground, roots and all. As if it were a twig,
the malleus tossed it on the fire. Flames roared higher and his voice grew
louder. Dorian knew nothing of the demon language, but the eerie cadence
churned his guts.
The trebox slunk around the fire.
He used two hands on a sword, carving symbols in the hard ground. This trebox
had shed his human clothes, exposing his hunched back and visible ribcage.
A recent report had crossed his
desk depicting a similar scene in England. When they completed drawing the
runes, the innocents would be sacrificed. “They mean to open a gate. We only
have until the song ends.”
Lillian’s eyes widened. She
reached into the folds of her underskirt and released a small crossbow from its
holster, chocked an arrow, and took aim. “We will need to move fast.”
“Ready.”
She let the arrow fly.
It pierced the malleus demon’s
left eye, silenced the song mid-word, and dropped the enormous monster to the
ground before he even had time to roar.
The trebox screamed in the
language only demons understood. He took up the song his comrade had been
chanting and wrote faster in the dirt.
Dorian pulled one throwing knife
from the belt strapped around Lillian’s smooth skin. He jumped over the hill
and ran down, dagger raised in his left hand.
The trebox rushed at him with its
eyes focused on the long knife.
When he was within range, he let
the smaller blade fly.
It buried deep in the greenish
creature’s throat. He crumpled with a whine.
Lillian ran behind him down the
hill.
All three children screamed and
cried.
She charged past them and kicked
dirt on the fire.
“What are you doing?”
“I think he might have gotten the
incantation finished. Look at the way the smoke curls in on itself. Evil will
find a way in even without the sacrifice. Once opened, I don’t know how to
close a gate.”
It was unnatural the way the
smoke did not move with the breeze. The ground rumbled. Dorian kicked dirt on
the fire and rubbed out the carved runes from the ground.
A.S.
Fenichel gave up a successful career in New York City to follow her husband to
Texas and pursue her lifelong dream of being a professional writer. She’s never
looked back.
A.S.
adores writing stories filled with love, passion, desire, magic and maybe a
little mayhem tossed in for good measure. Books have always been her perfect
escape and she still relishes diving into one and staying up all night to
finish a good story.
Multi-published
in erotic paranormal, contemporary and historical romance, A.S. is the author
of the Mayan Destiny series, Christmas Bliss and many more. With several books
currently contracted to multiple publishers, A.S. will be bringing you her
brand of romance for many years to come.
Originally
from New York, she grew up in New Jersey, and now lives in the East Texas with
her real life hero, her wonderful husband. When not reading or writing she
enjoys cooking, travel, history, and puttering in her garden.
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