The God Hunter by Constance Brewer
To save her demon kidnapped child, a fresco painter must ask for help from an unlikely source – a god stripped of his power.
THE GOD HUNTER EXCERPT:
Gethel dropped the bow, ran before fear could overtake him, dove, rolled, and came up with the dagger. The blade was slightly curved, a bit longer than his splayed hand, the hilt slight, as if made for a woman. He grasped it in his fist, jumped forward. The smell of the demon was nauseating, sulfur, burnt flesh and festering wounds all rolled into one. Gethel stabbed several times before awareness reached the demon’s brain. It dropped the child, turned. Close up it was a terrifying mix of man and haze, polished horn and ember bright eyes that fixed on the ropemaker as the source of its pain. Gethel got a sinking feeling that what followed would be unpleasant.
He backed up as fast as possible and watched the demon shrink as the mists sped outward from its stab marks. Gethel circled, hoping to keep the demon on the run until it shrank to a manageable size. There was one problem with his plan. He backed straight into the other smoke monster that’d finally pulled itself together. It threw a roundhouse that was mostly vapor but still managed to send the ropemaker flying. The dagger dropped from Gethel’s fingers. He flipped backwards to meet the ground with a thump, collapsed, and gasped for air.
The new demon took a deep breath, sucked in the remains of the other smoke monster and grew to staggering proportions. It didn't roar, it hissed as malevolently as any pit viper as it turned for the fallen ropemaker.
From the corner of his eye Gethel saw the child crawl towards the dagger, pick it up and dart past to leap at the quivering door. He plunged the blade in the center. The demon whipped its head around so fast it lost some of its volume as the mists sheared off. This time the demon did roar—the bellow of stoked flames. The child dropped the dagger, placed one hand on the shimmering space, and began to shout in a high-pitched voice. The demon charged.
The child pulled his hand from the door and the shimmer followed. Before Gethel’s astonished eyes a tiger slid from the hole as if the door gave birth. The feline bared glistening fangs, growled, and sprang as soon as it had all four feet on the ground. The next few moments were filled with snarling and hissing and the sizzle of flame. In the fray Gethel caught a glimpse of tiger teeth and claws; they flashed tiny lightning bolts as they connected. Gethel glanced across the distance separating him from the child. Fear squeezed his heart. The child was so absorbed in the battle he failed to notice the mists forming behind him. Before Gethel could yell a warning the next monster formed. It solidified into a form so dark he knew the other two had been mere distractions.
The black demon must have made some noise because the child whirled, threw up small hands, palms out. The air crackled with magic. The demon pushed forward until it towered over the child. Magic strained, stressing the air until it felt heavy and the hair on Gethel's arms and neck stood on end. The demon pushed his darkness down, a thundercloud before the rain. The child lost. With an audible crack and flash of light, his small magic gave. He collapsed to the ground. The demon grabbed the boy by one arm and yanked it up to eye level. The child let out such an ear-piercing shriek that the demon roared in pain. He flung the child away. The boy flew backwards and struck the ground, hard.
The door flapped and began to whistle, a subtle hum that reminded Gethel of mountain wind. Wisps of tiger shredded smoke began to move toward the hole. They were sucked in. The demon glanced at the door in annoyance as the air pulled and tugged at his murky outline but failed to dislodge any vapor. It moved with sure strides toward the child. Gethel realized with a shock that this monster had legs, feet, a tail, and its body seemed far more solid than a smoke demon should be.
Gethel rolled over. On hands and knees he scrabbled for the dropped bow and scattered arrows. With shaking fingers he nocked an arrow in record time and let fly. It struck the monster and went through, tore a hole on its way. Smoke began to leak from the gap. Gethel nocked another arrow as the monster turned toward him with a roar that shook the trees. He aimed for the glowing eye, released. It struck true. The demon hissed a hideous gasp of watered flame and pawed at its missing eye. Vapor flowed from the two wounds and was sucked into the hole in the door. Gethel nocked his last arrow as the monster closed to within a few horse lengths. "Gods guide me!" When he looked up the demon was on him. One black paw grabbed at the ropemaker just as something flew so close overhead it ruffled Gethel’s hair.
The tiger struck the monster, red gold fur glowing against the dark of the demon as they rolled end over end and tumbled toward the door. The demon fought but lost most of its mass as it was sucked in. The tiger was next, elongating to a whirl of gold before it disappeared. The door shuddered and shrank to half its size. Something tried to come out of it and failed. Smoke wisped feebly from the edges. The door convulsed and shrank again until it was no higher than Gethel's knee, no bigger than his forearm...
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