Succubus on the Run Read online

  SUCCUBUS ON THE RUN

  Sunny With A Chance of Demons

  Book One

  JENNY MCKANE

  Copyright © 2018

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Table of 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 1

  The show would be the death of her. She took a big, gulping sip of the station’s stale coffee and winced at the taste.

  Bitter. Metallic.

  Assuming the group of terrifying archangels that kept her number on speed dial didn’t smite her out of boredom, the “Sunny at Midnight” radio show was going to sleep deprive her right out of existence. She was at the point where coffee didn’t work anymore and seemed to serve in only making her sleepier, and the deep, body-depth fatigue made her bones hurt and her head ache.

  It had seemed perfect for her in the beginning—a college sophomore with day classes that started around nine in the morning; she worked nine at night to four in the morning a few days a week, and then sleep until class.

  But once Michael and his angelic crew had contracted her special “services”—against her will, Sunny might add—she was lucky to get two hours of sleep every couple of days. Most of the demons she tracked didn’t sleep, and the archangels must have thought humans didn’t either.

  No, Sunny thought as she spun round in her chair, safely inside the stuffy, tomb-like DJ booth, they wouldn’t kill her because they were bored—they’d kill her because of her failing track record.

  She studied the egg-carton-like insulation on the walls—the drab, gray pockmarked moonscape that closed in on her from all sides and thought about Azriel. The three-inch scar behind her ear that slashed down her neck reminded her daily of Hell’s grand duke.

  She’d been naïve. Not a crime in and of itself, but when you’re sent to assassinate the harbinger of the next doomsday, one ought to bring more to a fight than a letter opener, a splash of holy water, and deluded illusions of grandeur. She’d yet to set eyes on the grand demon, too. He’d sent a measly henchman after her and nearly succeeded.

  She’d lost much in that fight—a few pints of blood, consciousness for a day or so, and her silly belief that good always triumphs over evil.

  The shrill of the ringing phone snapped her awake, spooking her. She glanced to the large, plain-faced clock on the wall—her only companion in the DJ booth. It was just after three in the morning—she never got calls this late. The few drunks who bothered to listen to the show were already passed out, and all the decent people in the city had gone to bed hours ago.

  Though she didn’t mind the random drunks who called after last call, she had a foreboding sense that this wasn’t a night owl looking to chat. She’d let it ring, and if happened to be her station manager—she’d claim she was in the restroom.

  Two rings. Three. Four.

  On the seventh ring, she caved. The compulsion to answer was too strong to ignore.

  “This is Sunny Overnights,” she said and winced. She hated that corny tagline.

  “Miss Bonnard.” The voice on the other end was smooth, low, highly polished. And highly angelic. She should have known. Michael could make her walk into oncoming traffic if he wanted to—compelling her to answer a phone was nothing.

  “Archangel,” she replied, trying to control the quiver in her voice. Michael frightened her, it was true, but she hated that she made it so obvious.

  “We need to speak. Meet me at Duke’s at dawn,” he said. “Don’t be late.”

  Don’t be late.

  As if she had a choice.

  The bright ruby ring that sat on the middle finger of her left hand—the one that could not be removed by natural, or supernatural, forces—made it so. Only death would free her from the Solomon ring.

  And when the archangels spoke, Sunshine Bonnard listened.

  *****

  The salty lemon-lime lighting of the People Shuttle city busy was sallow before sunrise. With the pitch-black morning outside, the thick glass as a stark contrast, the unnatural lighting was garish and brutal on her heightened senses—especially her light-sensitive eyes.

  It didn’t matter the hour of day, there were always people getting off or getting on. And more getting on. And then leaving. All oblivious to her and the inherent danger all around. Demons would steal their souls if given half the chance—some had orders, some found it fun.

  Come and go, come and go. The people never saw death coming until it was too late.

  No matter how much she wished she could close her eyes and catch a quick nap, Sunny knew better than to leave herself exposed.

  A young couple rode together in the middle of the bus, while Sunny chose a seat in the last row. An elderly man sat reading the newspaper toward the front, and when the bus started down the road after picking Sunny up, she smelled it.

  Sulfur.

  Demons. Whenever demons were present, the egg-like wretched odor permeated the air, choking Sunny’s senses.

  She glanced at the laughing couple, hands all over each other in their play. She eyed them warily, hoping they didn’t recognize her kind—she wasn’t up for a pre-breakfast scuffle and being late to meet the archangel would make her day even worse.

  The two didn’t seem to think anyone else existed on the bus, which was just as well. She was relieved to see them stand and pull on the alert cord that ran along the top of the bus. When it rolled to a stop, they exited without incident, not even casting a glance over their shoulders at her.

  Sunny blew out a breath. Maybe she was getting better at blending in.

  It was half a mile down the road that she realized the smell was still there. She eyed the elderly man warily, hoping he did not get off the bus anytime soon and leave her alone with the bus driver. Her heart sank when the ping of the chord sounded and he stood to exit. She considered getting off as well and looked up to the white-haired man, ready to move to the door.

  He smiled at her, however, as he stepped down. And when he winked at Sunny, she saw the yellow cat-eye of a demon and her chest seized. His forked tongue darted out between his lips in an instant, and before she blinked, he’d transformed back into the jovial senior citizen.

  “Have a good day, Hal,” the bus driver said.

  “You too, Jim,” the demon said with an aged, scratchy voice. “Same time tomorrow.”

  With that, the elderly man-demon was gone.

  Dammit, Sunny cursed. She really needed to get better at t
he sensing thing. Had the demon felt like it, he could have taken her by surprise and left her a shredded, bloody puddle in the back of the bus.

  The city streets were dark and deserted when Sunny finally stepped off the bus. She hated public transportation. Full of twists and turns, stops and starts. She never made it the entire trip without getting nauseous. How was that for sad? A demon hunter with a violent case of car sickness.

  Duke’s Diner was on the corner of Shellmar and Sixty-Seventh Avenue and a favorite of Michael’s, who had a soft spot for the greasy spoon that Sunny now stood outside of.

  From her vantage point near the entrance, she saw the rows of vinyl booths were empty. Not an angel in sight.

  She considered giving up and making her way towards the tiny loft apartment she shared with her cat, Noodle. But then there’d be an angry archangel splintering her door to pieces, and she didn’t have the money to cough up to pay for a new one. Or for a new deposit when her landlord kicked her out.

  With nothing left to do, and no desire to go inside the restaurant, she sat down on the steps outside the front door and waited.

  Archangels were sticklers for convention, usually, and in the nine months she’d known Michael, he’d never been late.

  After ten minutes, she finally spotted Rub, one of the archangel’s henchmen.

  A cherub, really, but dressed to look like a miniature bouncer at some L.A. hotspot, Rub had white-blonde curls, rosy cheeks, and a nasty disposition. And usually a handgun or two. She did her best not to smile or laugh around the nasty little bugger, as he had a well-earned reputation for a volatile temper.

  “Follow me,” he said gruffly when he’d come to stop at the base of the steps. Today he wore black pants and a dark leather jacket. At half-past five in the morning, the little badass wore sunglasses, too.

  She fell wordlessly into step behind him and followed him around back to the parking lot. There were a few SUVs parked in a semi-circle, all white with blacked out windows.

  In the center was Michael’s Mercedes SLS. It was bright red and cost more than Sunny would probably make in her life. He sat on the edge of the hood with one leg up on the bumper. Michael was of average height for a man when he was in human form. Maybe six feet tall, with silver-blonde hair cut to his chin. He was handsome—it was hard not to be with pale, luminous skin and bright blue eyes. But Michael lacked something—and it took Sunny a few meetings to figure out what he was missing.

  Human-ness. There was a cold, calculating side to his race. Perfection. Aloofness. Direct contrast to the fiery, emotional, sloppy demons. And very unlike the human race who was caught somewhere between the two.

  “We are late,” he said by way of an apology. His voice was cultured, smooth. Just like his race. No room for error, no colloquial speech patterns or accents. Elegant. “We had to pick something up.”

  Sunny didn’t see anything in the car but nodded anyway.

  “You have a new assignment, Sunshine. There’s a rumor that Seumat has surfaced here in town. A lust demon. Very dangerous. Lethal for most men—hence your chance to redeem yourself, as lust demons don’t have the same sort of control over women,” he said without looking at her. He was staring down the street, examining a giant neon donut sign. “She’s already begun whatever she came here for, as you can plainly see in any of your morning papers.”

  Sunny wasn’t a connoisseur of the Post, but she did remember a rash of murders being on the covers of the papers left in the station breakroom during the past weeks. Young men all over town were disappearing outside of nightclubs, house parties, and other places drunk revelers liked to congregate around town.

  Her mind was racing, as it usually did in the presence of Michael or Raphael. They made her so damned nervous.

  “Did you have any questions before I cut you loose?” Michael asked. He looked bored. “You seem lost.”

  Questions? Hell yes, she had questions. What was she doing here? Who was Seumat? Why couldn’t another Hunter get the crazy sex demon?

  “I thought I was let go from the service,” she finally managed, though it was low on the list of priority questions she had.

  A small smile tugged at Michael’s pale lips, flashing a glint of perfect teeth.

  “Yes, yes you were, Sunshine. That last foul up with Azriel really created problems for us, and your other catch wasn’t very pretty or by the books, either.”

  He paused, possibly replaying her 0-2 track record in his mind. He chuckled. He’d probably remembered what a mess she made with the dream demon, though she’d finally shackled him and dragged the beast twenty blocks downtown to Michael’s penthouse office. Rub must have been reliving his own recollections because he snickered too and shook his head.

  “But we are lacking Hunters on the West Coast, and you seem to be the only female left alive,” he continued. Her heart skipped on the last bit.

  “Jessa? Melinda?” She blurted out the names of two girls she’d trained with briefly. Muscled little bad asses out of California that made a sandwich out of Sunny when they’d sparred.

  “Dead,” he said with a shrug. “It’s been a rough couple of months, and we don’t have time to train any new recruits. Seumat is a danger to us and to the city. Redeem yourself and life will be good for you. Fail a third time and life…well, life is out of the question.”

  And there it was.

  She knew the day would come when the ultimatum would be laid down and there would be no room for error—even the past six months when she’d had no contact with the archangels, she knew it wasn’t over.

  Not yet.

  What if demons hadn’t killed Jessa or Melinda? What if Michael had? The thought sent a shiver of terror up her spine, and her flesh reacted with goose bumps. She’d always felt out of place among the Hunters, but now she felt she was being set up to fail.

  “Your ancestor was lucky, really,” Michael spoke after a long silence. His eyes grazed over Sunny’s body, seeming to stop along each and every curve. She still hadn’t figured out if angels were sexual creatures, though the occasional glance from Michael made her assume they were. She fidgeted, and he looked predatory. “Solomon failed us, and he got to lose his mind. Had no recollection of being the King of Kings or the power of the ring he passed down. He lived out the rest of his life with the mental capabilities of a child, but he got to live out his life. His ancestors, you, are not so lucky. Fail us, we kill you. The ring of Solomon moves forward without you.”

  “I’m amazed you’ve kept me alive this long.” Sunny’s stomach lurched at the thought of sassing the archangel, but she couldn’t stop herself. He was nothing more than a bully. A violent, beautiful, terrifying bully that pushed her buttons.

  “Are you getting smart with him, human?” Rub was in her face in an instant. Perhaps not her face so much as her chest, but he was there, jabbing a doughy little finger at her. She swatted it away in a show of bravado.

  “Get out of my face, you creepy little bastard,” she snarled, hoping he didn’t shoot her in hers. It had happened. She’d heard the stories.

  “What you should be is grateful,” Michael said, dismissing Rub with a nod of his head. The red-faced, seething cherub disappeared behind an SUV, but not before shooting Sunny the middle finger from behind the boss’s back. “Though it is more than you deserve, I am going to help you with your mission. I have an expert, someone with firsthand knowledge of a lust demon’s workings to help you. He’s spent much of his past shackled to Seumat’s bedpost and would know firsthand her inner-most workings.”

  Gross. A dried-up, beaten-down demon sex slave. Who better to serve as tour guide?

  Michael was eyeing her again and making her skin crawl. He had an odd glint in his eyes that hinted at amusement. He casually toyed with the zipper on his leather jacket and glanced over his shoulder in the direction the cherub had gone.

  “Bring him out.”

  The side door to one of the trucks popped open and a head of dark hair emerged. This demon was t
aller than she imagined—most she’d encountered had been rather small and burly. Their stature didn’t make them any less lethal—they just weren’t all-pro linebacker material. This one, well, this one could have made the team if he’d tried.

  As he came around the door and toward the front of Michael’s car, he kept his face obscured from her. The newcomer was actually huge, now that Sunny took the time to study him. Well-muscled and well over six feet tall. His hair was dark, coppery brown, and when he finally lifted his scowling, angry face to hers, the man’s tawny-colored eyes temporarily froze her in place.

  They were feral, alive, and angry. This was no ordinary demon, and the creature didn’t look demon at all to her, which was actually all the more terrifying. What was he?

  She knew her mouth dropped open and that Michael was studying her, but she didn’t care. Something was different about this one, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to work with him. To Sunny, this creature was coiled lightning, bound tight and waiting to explode. She didn’t care to be around when he did.

  “Let’s just get this done,” the demon growled under his breath to Michael, though Sunny heard it as well.

  “You look disappointed, Sunshine,” Michael clucked his tongue. She hadn’t hidden her shock well. “You must forgive him. You see, Gideon’s been the personal pet of Seumat from the moment they dragged him to Hell, and I hear she’s a rather difficult mistress to please.”

  “If he’s so damaged, why would he help your cause?” she finally asked, looking at Gideon. He didn’t meet her gaze and kept his eyes lowered.

  Michael rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger lazily. His blue eyes met hers, and he winked. The archangel winked at her.

  “I made him a deal, Sunshine,” he said. “One where the stakes were too high for him to turn down. Perhaps he will tell you all about it in the coming weeks together. Perhaps not. Perhaps he’ll kill you once Seumat is dead. I don’t know. Not sure I care, either.”

  Her eyes flicked to the man’s face, but again, they met a stony wall. No reaction whatsoever. Kill her?

  “I’d be careful if I were you,” Michael said, as he pushed himself up and walked around to the driver’s side door. “Demons are dangerous creatures, and that one’s got serious anger issues. Don’t fail me, Sunshine. You’re almost too pretty to kill. Almost.”