The Demon Hunters Read Online Free Page A

hair damp-dry and braided
it, not easy as it reaches my tailbone when loose. It gets a little
kinked if it dries out first and I like it smooth. Modest in my
floor-length chenille robe, I went to my bedroom and slid open the
closet door. Now, what to wear?
    I knew nothing about the
potential clients, so couldn’t decide what might be appropriate or
inappropriate wear. My gray You Call Me A
Bitch Like It’s A Bad Thing T-shirt could
send the wrong message, or maybe not. How about the black Behind Every Successful Man Is A Woman Who Thinks
He’s An Asshole ? Nah. The worn old
black Ghostbusters shirt, the Burger
King ? The white Who’s Your Doggy ?
    I settled on a plain navy-blue T-shirt
and my newest pair of boot-flare Levis, even tucked the shirt in my
waistband. Add my cleanest sneakers and I was set.
    I trotted down the stairs and straight
out the front door. Mel and Jack watched from the kitchen window as
I got in my Subaru.
    ***
    As I drove to Royal’s place, I
recalled the time I told him about my roommates. He likes to tease
me, but being teased is so far outside my experience, sometimes I’m
slow to catch on.
    “ There are dead people
here?” he said, looking around the kitchen as if he thought he’d
spot them.
    I pointed at the fridge. “Yeah. Jack’s
right over there.”
    He swiveled in the chair and stared at
the fridge. Jack lifted one hand, wiggling his fingers.
    I pointed over the kitchen table, at
the chair opposite us. “Mel’s right here.”
    Royal swiveled back, and again, stared
at where I pointed. Then he stared at me.
    “ Don’t look at me like I’m
crazy.”
    “ Are you feeling all right,
Tiff?” he said, despite my mentioning Jack and Mel all the time.
Still, hearing about ghosts and being introduced to them is
entirely different. Although, as he couldn’t see or hear them, was
there any difference?
    I rolled my eyes. “You know I see dead
people. A couple of them happen to live in my house.”
    “ Tell him I think he’s
hot,” Mel said.
    “ Mel thinks you’re
hot.”
    He reached for my hands, held them.
“Mel thinks I’m hot? What about you?”
    He was not taking me seriously. I
pulled my hands free. “I’m serious, Royal. I want you to
understand, ‘cause if you hang out here you’re gonna see me acting
kinda strange.”
    He smiled. “Such as?”
    I frowned. “Talking to myself. Stuff
like that.”
    “ Are they traditional
ghosts?”
    “ What does he mean,
traditional?” from Mel.
    “ Traditional?”
    Royal was on the verge of laughter.
“Walking through walls, creaking floorboards, mysterious cold
zones, feeling of being watched.”
    I looked down at my clasped hands.
“Just the walking through walls thing.”
    I looked up to see him lean back and
hook one arm over the back of the chair. Jack came up behind and
blew on his neck.
    “ Jack, what in hell’s name
are you doing?”
    Royal swiveled back around.
    “ You’ll get whiplash if you
keep that up,” I observed.
    “ Is he feeling anything?”
Jack asked.
    “ Are you feeling anything,
Royal?”
    “ Come again?” Royal asked,
still looking behind him.
    “ No cold zone?” from
Jack.
    “ Cut it out !”
    Royal turned back to me.
“What is going
on?”
    I let my shoulders sag. “Jack was . .
. oh, forget it.”
    Royal was something of a mystery to
me, and he still is. Sometimes I forget he’s not human, other times
I see him as an exotic enigma. I don’t always understand him, but I
thought he understood me; I thought he believed in me. He saw my
one-sided conversations with my spectral informers. He acted on the
information they gave me. Why this incredulity now? To say I felt
disappointed is inadequate.
    I went to a kitchen drawer next the
pantry, rooted till I found the newspaper cuttings and threw them
down on the table: Jackson Trewellyn, twenty-eight years old when
he disappeared in the mountains above Clarion in 1986 while hiking
alone, and Melissa Trent, who disappeared in 1990, her car found