The Psyche Diver Trilogy: Demon Hunters Read Online Free

outward, guiding their hunter through the darkness. No matter what Fuminari tried, there was no way to cut the strand.
    He was no coward, But this feeling -- just call it fear , he thought. Fuminari thought of himself as an animal. He respected fear. When pursued, animals naturally become acutely aware of their hunter. If an animal were to doubt its instincts, that would be its end, no different than suicide. Wild animals do not commit suicide.
    Who was tracking them? Perhaps someone had found the body, but even if that were the case how could they be able to track them? It was the middle of the night. Tracking footprints would be too slow, even with flashlights they would continue to fall further behind. But whatever was following them now, he was sure, was maintaining the same distance. If anything, it was slowly lessening the gap. Dogs? Fuminari had taken the knife from the man’s throat and brought it with him. The dogs would have no scent to track, that was unlikely.
    What was tracking them? If human, it could only be one, maybe two people, not a large group. A group of people, unless fully-trained professionals, would make enough noise for the sound to reach him. There was no sound. He could only discern the presence of something giving chase across the darkness. Someone, or some thing , had discovered the body. It had made a rapid assessment of the situation and decided to give chase. It was clearly not an opponent to take lightly. Two things were clear from the fact that it had started after them: it understood there was no time to tell its people and, moreover, it judged itself capable of handling the situation alone. If so, its talents would be formidable. Then there was the fact it had managed to track them this far.
    Fuminari charged up over the hillside. Heading down would not only limit their escape routes but also expose them to other dangers. The rule was always the same when you got lost in the mountains: head upward.
    They reached the ridgeline. The land below was covered by a dense forest of beech trees. The undergrowth had transitioned from bushes and weeds to long bamboo grass. His awareness of something was still there.
    “Can you sense it?” Fuminari asked Kumiko, pushing the grass aside.
    Kumiko halted, looking puzzled.
    “Okay. It’s probably better that way,” Fuminari muttered, speeding up. They had hardly spoken since the clearing. Kumiko seemed to have left the situation in Fuminari’s hands.
    What the hell was all that anyway? Fuminari remembered what they had seen earlier. It had been horrific. The sutra-like chanting, the woman’s screams--the sound still rang in his ears. And the smell, the crowds of men and women writhing in the torchlight, the woman’s raw, severed head, the old man’s face as he feasted on her heart. For some reason, Fuminari felt he had seen that face before. The man’s features were grotesque. Could a human face become so distorted? Was he a monster? More like a demon, he had been at the very least partially human. Fuminari had also not forgotten the surge of nausea and the extraordinary thrill that had taken hold of him. If he had watched long enough, he would not have been surprised to have actually ejaculated. Fuminari reminded himself of the powerful urge he felt to run over and join them. Perhaps whatever followed them now was that shadow of himself--of the darkness that had awoken deep in his own consciousness and possessed him.
    Kumiko was already out of breath. She was exhausted, gasping for air, pace slowing. Should I leave her? Alone, Fuminari felt confident of his chances of escaping, but leaving her would mean having to silence her. He had to make his decision. Either deal with her now or lay in wait and take this thing on. The sound of a river drafted up from below. The water was fast and loud. It sounded as though there might be a verge nearby.
    “Hey,” Fuminari called out. He had already started to head down from the ridge. “We’re being