The Demonslayer (Seven Sins MC 4)

Under the windows was the big trunk that had come with me from my parents’ home. In it was every article of clothing I owned all rolled up since we didn’t have closets.

On the free wall, I had a small desk jammed up on the wall next to a well-worn leather wingback chair I’d… relocated from an administrative office after one worker retired, but before the next had moved in yet.

That wall was lined with nails and hooks where I hung all the weapons I’d acquired over the years. Knives, swords, even some brass knuckles. Some of them were just normal, human weapons in case my blessed ones got knocked out of reach during a fight.

Only the demonslayer weapons—forged by special craftsmen, then blessed by a priest—could eliminate a demon from the world.

But you only got a few of those.

So a girl had to make sure she had other things to defend herself with in case of a fight to the death. To make sure it wasn’t her death.

On a deep sigh, I dropped down in my chair, rubbing my hands down my face, exhaustion and frustration still raging through my system.

I couldn’t let the case go to Marsh.

It simply wasn’t a fucking option.

I would never live that down.

But, clearly, what I’d been doing so far wasn’t working.

Unfortunately, though, it was all I had.

Normally, if I was this stuck, I would reach out to someone else at The Academy for help. The problem was, I couldn’t do that if the Council was watching me so closely. I had to prove I could do it without assistance.

The fact of the matter was, though, that I needed help.

I had nothing else to go on, no other leads to follow.

And a ticking fucking clock.

I had to find someone to help me, someone who knew about demons, about how to sniff them out.

The name popped up in my head automatically.

“No,” I hissed to myself, trying to shake the idea away.

But it stayed there, planted, growing roots.

Because, really, who better to find a demon than another demon?

It was completely forbidden.

Then again, so was fucking him, so, really, asking him to help me find a fellow winged menace couldn’t be that much worse.

It was a terrible idea.

I mean, I knew that down to my core.

Yet what other choice did I have?

If he would even do it.

No. Of course he would do it. If for no other reason, than thinking he would get some ass out of the deal.

That wasn’t going to happen.

That had to be my rule to myself.

If I was going to ask Minos for professional help, then I had to keep it professional.

No more fucking.

Decision made, I took a quick shower then dropped into bed.

And first thing in the morning, I did it.

I let down the wall.

Then I waited for him to come.

CHAPTER SIX

Minos

I could hear the bikes rumbling as soon as they turned down the street.

Seven and Aram.

Back from their search for Red.

None of us talked about it much. Since, well, that wasn’t really the relationship any of us had with one another. But I could tell from the tension growing in the house, making the air feel thin and the mood constantly volatile.

We were all worried about Red.

It wasn’t like her not to check in with us.

And none of us knew that Marceaus guy she’d taken off after. The same one who’d carelessly carved a cross out of her skull then left like he didn’t give a fuck about her.

I mean, if the bastard had wanted to hurt her, he could have just left her there, silently screaming in agony.

But he’d helped her.

Still, though, none of it was sitting right with me.

First, because we had no fucking idea what the fuck happened to Red while in hell. We all agreed, though, that it hadn’t been good. If humans had overpowered her down there for long enough to ink a tattoo into her flesh, rendering her completely helpless, then beat the ever-loving shit out of her, and fuck-knew what else, there was no way she was just the same old Red we’d always known.

There was trauma there.

And she was off on her own without any of us to be there for her if she needed it.

Instead, if she caught up with him, all she had was Marceaus who didn’t seem like the kind of man who would give a shit about her trauma.

Seven came walking into the foyer first, looking a little ragged, a little road-rough, but otherwise like himself.

Aram, though, when he followed, he looked like he’d lost not only sleep, but weight. His shoulders were curled inward. His head was lowered.

So, that was our answer.

They’d hit yet another dead-end.

“Did you even catch a scent of her?” Ace asked as the two moved into the library.

Aram immediately dropped down into a chair, scrubbing his hands down his face.