Donatti's Lunatics

By Ana Mara

When a team of ghost hunters goes rogue, Olivia Stone, rookie federal agent, is dispatched to investigate. What starts off as a simple assignment quickly turns into a job from hell. Literally. Not only does Olivia join the ghost hunters in a battle against murderous demons, she also falls hard for James Donatti, the team's enigmatic leader who makes it clear he wants nothing to do with her. As the investigation unfolds, Olivia and James are drawn together by an inexplicable force, but will their romance survive what's in store for them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Apr 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781509220267

Book preview

fight

Chapter One

Hungary, Isle of Hares, St. Vladimir’s Monastery

The ancient monastery doors groaned shut behind me and for a moment, I didn’t know where darkness ended, and I began.

I allowed my eyes to adjust, tucking wisps of hair back into my ponytail, then pulling it tighter as I scanned the ashen interior. For a government-protected site, the place was a mess.

Centuries of neglect had ruined its once imposing dignity. Heaps of splintered pews trembled with cobwebs, and only a black outline remained above the altar where a crucifix once hung. The west wall crumbled around a fresco depicting devils bound for hell. Dusty rays of light emitted through the slits in the ceiling, providing the only warmth in the otherwise tomblike surroundings.

For some reason, knowing it was still daytime brought comfort, and I allowed the feeling to cover me like a blanket, even as I felt the temperature drop until the air bit my cheeks.

I stole away from the entrance in the direction of the archways at the back of the main chapel, rubbing my arms as the cold slipped inside my jacket and thinking this is how a grave must feel.

Don’t be daft, I told myself. Focus on the job. A difficult task considering I just noticed instead of the customary single shadow, I had two—a telltale sign of demonic infestation.

I stopped, exhaled a slow breath that clouded at my lips, and shuddered.

Although I knew all signs pointed to a haunting, I found it hard to wrap my mind around the idea. I’d actually never experienced supernatural activity in person. At twenty-five, I was the youngest para-archivist in the IBPA, the International Bureau for Paranormal Activity, but my training came from instruction and books. Yes, basically, I was a librarian.

My heart thudded in my chest, but I tried to stay calm by focusing once again on my task. I recalled what I knew about demonic hauntings. Demons jumped realms through portals. Their presence in ours, especially with a sloppy jumper, left traces like double shadows. The extreme temperature drop also indicated a malefic entity as opposed to a spirit, though the strongest of them, devils, could go hot in a matter of seconds.

I checked the 9mm in my shoulder holster, but would it have any effect against a supernatural threat?

The stillness around me seemed alive. I turned in a slow circle, wiping my palms on the front of my pants, but I was alone.

Completely alone.

A faint sound caught my attention. At first, it barely rose above a whisper, not enough to recognize, but it soon drew closer and more distinguishable. The echo of flapping wings.

I craned my neck to the ceiling, expecting to catch a flock of pigeons, but no living things stirred around me. I hesitated, not knowing what to do next. Soon, I didn’t have to make that decision. When the invisible wings rushed me, I yelped and sprinted for the back of the chapel, away from the entrance.

Something plowed into me from behind. It felt like a giant hammer hit me in the back. It carried me. The force accelerated as we closed the distance to the altar steps, my feet dragging the ground. I couldn’t get my balance long enough to break free. When I hit the steps, something caught me, spun me, and hurled me at the altar.

I landed on my back, crying out in pain.

Searching the chapel for any physical sign of my attacker, I scrambled for my gun. The rational part of me didn’t expect it to do shit, but panic gripped me.

I tried to squeeze the trigger, but my hands shook too badly to get it working. Time for Plan B. I sprang up hoping to make it to the doors.

The demon flung me back on the slab.

At first, its invisible limbs squeezed my breath into a scream. Every part of my body burned in agony. Only one thought penetrated my hell: I am going to die.

Then the demon’s hold slackened—not enough for me to escape, but enough to let me live—and that’s when I knew it didn’t want to kill me in the first place.

With the most repulsive gentleness, something slipped inside my shirt. My mind hung onto the thought nothing was actually there, but the icy touch was impossible to ignore. It caressed my skin with the affection a tiger might show its next meal.

If this thing turned out to be an incubus, I’d be so screwed, in more ways than one.

I thrashed in its grip.

The demon embraced me then, and rocketed into the air.

The gaps in the ceiling raced at us. I flung my arms out to protect myself, screaming until we halted an arm’s length away from the roof’s serrated remains. I froze at the sight of a toothed beam poised straight over my heart. A few inches higher and I would’ve died.

I tried to gulp down my panic. We levitated near the ceiling, and I twisted in my captor’s grip, my voice hoarse. Just end it already, I whispered, letting the tears slip out and quaking in fear.

I thought I heard voices, human voices. But I blamed that kind of hopeful thinking on the chaos inside my head.

This was it, wasn’t it? What was it waiting for?

The voices didn’t fade away, though, and I felt a lurch as my assailant stiffened at my back.

Before I could react, it let go.

Suddenly, I freefell toward the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut, arms outstretched and flailing, my stomach forced against my spine.

Instead of striking the stones, I crashed on top of another body. We rolled in a pile of limbs, the force of the impact sharp in every muscle. A few feet away, we scrambled to a stop; half of me sprawled on top of my rescuer.

Breathe, he ordered.

I rolled over and forced my lungs to expand, taking staggered gulps of air. My vision swam. When I tried to rise on hands and knees, pain ripped into my ribs.

Several minutes passed before I trusted myself to straighten once again. This time, I managed to sit back on my knees and look up.

Through the haze, I focused on the man who just saved my life.

James Donatti.

My files came with an older picture, but he hadn’t changed much. Just over six feet, intimidating. His dark brown hair nearly touched his broad shoulders, disheveled where it curled at his ears. Two narrow silver strands ran from his temples to the tips, making him look older than thirty-three. He wore all black. But what startled me about him were his eyes, the most extreme shade of polished silver, so intense I found it difficult to keep eye contact.

Thank you, I said, feeling the panic abate just slightly at the presence of another human being.

He extended his hand to help me up.

I ignored it. Not out of stubbornness, but because my hands shook, and my body threatened to follow suit, muscles spasming.

He held back, as if giving me room. Good man.

Cautiously, I worked my way up, looking around for any sign of the demon.

It’s gone, he said. Now breathe, or you’ll hyperventilate.

Right, I said, and drew another rickety breath. I’ve been looking for you. I’m—

Trying to get us all killed, said a voice behind me.

I turned to see a woman also wearing all black except for the thick silver cords around her neck and wrists. Miran Sarangerel, Donatti’s adoptive sister and his second in charge. Her spiky blonde hair almost glowed over a pair of gigantic yellow-rimmed goggles, which covered nearly half her face. Her irritation with me was quite palpable.

Another man stood behind her. This one I didn’t recognize. He had a bony face with somber features like those found on statues of saints, and he towered over all of us.

You’re not supposed to be here. I addressed Donatti since he was the leader and, therefore, responsible for this mess. I had mixed feelings about him. The man did just save my life, but I wasn’t here on a friendly visit and had a job to finish.

Decisions, decisions.

What can I do for you? he asked, but the dryness in his voice indicated he already knew.

I decided to forget for now that I owed Donatti. If I focused too much on how close I’d come to resembling a squashed bug on a window, I’d go into shock for sure, and that just wouldn’t do.

The local branch has filed an official complaint―

You’re with Interghoul? the woman said, chewing that last bit like a sour grape.

The worldwide preternatural community had nicknamed the IBPA Interghoul at its conception twelve years ago. That made me one of its ghouls.

This is a protected site, I said. You have no permit to be here. If you don’t leave immediately, you’ll be in a shitload of trouble with the local authorities.

Donatti raised his hand and scanned the chapel walls. Apprehension strung his body. I agree.

But what about Jalel? Miran protested, nodding in the taller man’s direction.

It’s too unstable, Donatti said. We won’t get to it in time.

Because of her—

Enough, Miran. He turned to Jalel. We will find another way.

The other man nodded with a look of complete trust. I sensed a certain degree of respect in Donatti’s promise, a surprising attitude for a man who, according to rumor, lived and worked like he didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone.

The air around me buzzed.

Just nerves? I hoped so. I don’t know what’s going on here, but if we don’t go now, we might not get the chance.

She’s right, Jalel said. A shadow of worry drew his eyebrows.

Miran huffed but didn’t argue. Instead, she motioned for Jalel and me to get between her and Donatti.

****

James led the way toward the exit, and the rest of us followed close behind.

What’s going on, James? Miran said. I can’t see in these damn things. She wiggled her goggles, and tapped an earpiece in her right ear. Nate, do you read me? What the fuck are you doing out there?

Two on the left, four up on the banisters, one by the doors. Donatti pointed as he spoke. Staying just out of range.

I saw nothing but shadows.

Donatti scanned the interior, eyes following some erratic movement invisible to me.

That meant only one thing. I had an unregistered mystic on my hands.

I groaned inwardly.

Mystics were trouble.

So much trouble.

Most supernaturals were invisible to humans, but mystics weren’t regular humans. No supernatural could hide from them. Some mystics fought supernaturals, which to me always sounded like a myth, because I’m a skeptic and I won’t buy it ’til I see it. Nevertheless, the mystics’ rare talent made them valuable and dangerous, and unregistered mystics were illegal.

Great, I said under my breath. Just great.

Donatti halted, tension taut across his back. Stay close, he said.

Someone called my name. Olivia. The word felt like sandpaper grating my skin, and goose bumps swarmed my arms. Not the good kind.

I turned around, but no one else seemed to have heard. I felt sick. How was it possible that a single word, my own name, could make my stomach lurch with nausea?

Swaying, I grabbed Donatti’s shoulder for support.

As soon as I touched him, pain ripped through my temples and my vision swam. I blinked until I regained some focus, but then I gaped at the scene before me.

Chapter Two

The chapel faded into a gray misty place, a gothic pencil sketch distorted as if filtered through the waters of a murky lake. Black shapes streaked through the air; hundreds of them so close I suffered their frigid touch when their wings brushed me. They resembled phantoms I had studied in old books back at the academy—the unclean dead: Monsters, killers, super bad guys. I heard them now, too, their moans drenching me in misery. I wanted to cover my ears against that horrible sound.

My mind worked overtime to construct logical explanations to make sense of the bizarre world I saw.

Nothing worked.

The spirits circled like vultures, and every now and then, I’d catch a glimpse of an ugly twisted face. Distorted with the remnants of human anguish, but no longer human.

I sensed the presence of others, and followed Donatti’s line of vision. My hands flew to my mouth to stop from screaming.

The entities surrounded us, as if a piece of hell had risen through the earth and made camp inside these walls. Creatures akin to goats, pigs, dogs and monkeys, covered with flesh as shriveled and rotted as a corpse, congregated upon every surface of the chapel.

Donatti saw them too, I knew, and it dawned on me the mystic had understated their numbers for our peace of mind.

A grunting noise, like that of a hog, tore my attention from the creatures. Somewhere within those mangled syllables, I heard my name spoken again, and a morbid kind of curiosity got the best of me.

Still holding on to Donatti, I peered around his shoulder.

A horrendous creature like nothing I’d ever imagined barred our way.

Its face, disfigured by dozens of encrusted gashes, spread into a horrific parody of a smile. The teeth, all blunt like shovels, snapped within a grotesque jaw. The putrid body, carved with fissures and craters, had signs of leprosy-like decay, and with every lungful, its rattling breath smoldered out through the broken skin. It crouched on hooved legs over a network of long yellow claws. Instead of eyes, black holes with loose spider-webs of tissue gaped only inches from Donatti’s face.

The man and the beast fixed on one another. That’s why Donatti hadn’t moved this entire time.

A standoff.

The thing gloated in anticipation of a battle. It prepared to spring, claws tapping the floor, arms slightly apart.

Then the beast tilted its head and looked at me.

Oh, god, oh, god, oh god, I thought, hiding my face behind Donatti, digging my fingers into the back of his jacket.

Abruptly, Donatti half turned and gawked down at my hand. You can see it?

I gasped when I saw his eyes. His pupils had bled into solid pools of reflective silver.

Let go, he said. Now.

I did as if burned. Once again, pain blinded me, but when it subsided, I no longer saw any of the creatures.

What’s wrong with you? Miran said, and I realized she didn’t see them either.

I’m fine, I lied.

Miran took a few steps closer. James, what are we doing?

He spoke calmly, not to us, but to the thing in front of him. "Defende nos in proelio; contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium." His voice rose against the deceiving emptiness.

Then I heard a howl, a disembodied sound, which chilled my blood. The wailing continued and grew louder, but Donatti’s chant went on until the entire chapel rang with echoes.

He drew a leather-bound vial out of his jacket, popped the cork, and flung the contents in a wide arch, repeating the same lines until a beastly holler exploded over us. The air electrified and swelled with movement, and I caught sight of the demon once again, a broad murky outline suspended several feet in front of us. It clawed at the traces of the liquid on its body, where blistering wounds seared into its flesh. It shifted in and out of invisibility.

Then it disappeared completely.

Did you purge it? Miran said. Can you tell?

He shook his head and dropped the empty vial back in his jacket pocket.

Careful not to touch him again, I leaned closer and whispered with more desperation than I intended, We should go before it comes back. The doors—

Something’s wrong, Jalel said.

Yes. We’re still standing here, I said. I tried to tone down my fear, but massive amounts of it spilled over.

Donatti caught Miran’s attention. He tapped his own earpiece in silent question, and she shook her head. He reached for his belt and came back with a small ax, unfamiliar designs carved into the blade.

I doubt a cleaver will do it, I whispered.

Donatti tightened his grip around the ax, testing its weight in his palm. He was a leftie, like me.

We’re so close, I said.

The exit beckoned, only twenty feet away. All ancient texts held one common truth. The sun was the ultimate weapon. Talismans and crosses required faith to channel power, but not the sun. It produced its own brand of magic, sovereign over light and dark.

Don’t, he bit out, as if sensing my plan.

The sunlight will help, I insisted. I can make it.

Don’t move.

Donatti reached out to grab me, but too late. I moved out of his reach and tore away.

I made it no more than ten feet before the beast, still invisible, grabbed me and flung me down.

I scrambled behind a pile of broken slabs nearby, gasping for air, but the thing didn’t come back for me.

Screams resonated across the chapel.

I sat up, peering over the edge of the slab.

Jalel lay on the altar steps. It looked like his body depressed itself into the ground to an unyielding level. He reached out blindly, fighting to free himself.

Miran leaped to Jalel’s side and almost immediately catapulted back, landing face down on the broken pews near Donatti.

I saw Donatti pitch the wood out of the way and pull Miran by the arm, up and over one shoulder. He carried her into a nearby alcove, lowering her gently before he sneaked around the back wall to help Jalel.

When Donatti got close enough to reach for the other man’s hands, he abruptly flew backward into a nearby pillar.

Jalel seemed free of the beast’s hold, but now Donatti was under attack. He slid up the pillar as if performing some magic trick in which his feet dangled above the ground. His face paled, hands grasping at his neck.

I shook off the bewilderment that momentarily incapacitated me. Moving on pure instinct, I shot over the slabs and raced to the exit again.

The energy around my shoulders thickened, and I knew the thing followed me. I ducked its grasp as I felt it sail past me, claws scraping against the stones. How I managed it without Donatti’s sight I will never know, but I evaded the demon all the way to the doors, trusting my ears to sense its position. With every bit of strength left, I shoved the doors open until a torrent of light flooded the chapel.

A chorus of shrieks and wails burst through the chapel.

James sprinted to Jalel. He slung him over his shoulders and they hurried toward the exit. I went back for Miran, and we hopped outside, down the crumbling steps, and as far away from the clamor as we could manage.

Everyone hurried through the rusty gates and away from the monastery grounds. And I should’ve followed suit.

But I couldn’t help it.

Against my better judgment, I turned around.

Shock doused me once more. The beast crouched just inside the doorframe, in full daylight, real. The corners of its chops lifted in a distorted smile. It raised a claw and the doors slammed