Demon Huntress Legends

By Cynthia Vespia

Nothing is ever easy when you're the daughter of the demon hunter.

 

Khalen Calabrese refused to accept the title of Demon Hunter or the duty that went along with it. Instead, she chose a life of adventure as a pirate on the high seas. Freedom, fortune, and glory were hers until the past came calling.

 

Infected with a family curse, and with minions from Hell at her back, time is running out. Now she must take up the title she never wanted before the darkness claims her. Together, with her brother Khalo and elven warrior Pax, she'll fight against the forces of evil sent after her by the Duke of Hell, as well as the evil that dwells within her soul.

 

Demons never looked so good!

 

The full trilogy includes:

• Destiny Unleashed
• Magik, Myths Monsters
• Child of Darkness, Child of Light

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Vespia
• Release date: Feb 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393379836

Book preview

Chapter One

LEGACY

All hail the bitch of the sea, Khalen Calabrese!

As Captain Robinson lifted his mug of ale in salute to me he insisted the rest of the crew do the same. Their lack of enthusiasm brought me no ill will. I know they have their issues with me. The street kid brought into the ranks and looked upon with favor because she slept with the Captain. Honoring me somewhat threw all of that in their faces.

I didn’t care.

They could think whatever they wanted to. For the most part it was true. I shared Captain Robinson’s bed on a regular basis. But his favor of me came from more than just our intimate relations. I held special skill from a lineage of hunters; a lineage I preferred not to acknowledge.

My position and rank amongst the crew had been challenged but once. I made short and bloody work of the crewman who doubted me. After that no one dared speak ill of my status again. Still, I knew what they thought of me. But if the crew chose to see my high rank as favoritism due to sexual favors then so be it. A small price to pay for keeping my true background a secret.

They knew better than to outright disrespect me. But I wouldn’t let their belly aching stop me from celebrating either. Today was my 21st year, a milestone to be sure, and I intended to bleed every drop from the day. To keep morale from growing sour and putting a damper on the festivities I offered to buy a round for my mates. Somehow one round begat another and then others pitched in to buy the birthday girl her birthday drink. Soon my sights were blurred but my spirits quite buoyant.

The men had taken to their usual raucousness. All about me in the small tavern here at Siren’s Cove they indulged in drinking, wenching, stealing, and ultimately fighting. I watched in a cloudy stupor but I did not partake.

My life as a pirate certainly wouldn’t find its way into any religious books or songs. I did not fancy myself an angel but I wasn’t a full devil either. I loved the open sea and the endless travel from port-to-port, not knowing what lies ahead each day. But I refrained from the criminal end of things.

I don’t steal. Anything I want I barter for or insist that they give me. If a man picks a fight with me I will hold my own, but I don’t go out seeking a brawl. And wenching has never been my taste. I prefer a barrel chest and a chiseled abdomen running down to a manhood thick with desire that could get the job done again and again. No woman ever interested me in such a manner.

Although to be fair I haven’t let a man strike more than a fleeting interest in some time either. Captain Robinson, though charming and a demon in the sack, wasn’t more than a sexual escapade. He brought me relief from the stress of the day and a distraction from the growing ache in my head.

I knew he loved me. I read it in his eyes when we spoke and I felt it in his arms when we held each other in the night. But I could not return his affections. My walls were up, the watch towers manned and a moat of anger, betrayal, and resentment kept any prospective suitor at bay. To win my love they would have to slay the dragon of ice wrapped protectively around my heart.

Though that didn’t stop him from trying. I almost felt pity for him as he approached my table with a noticeable trinket in his hand. He continued to try and win my favor with baubles and soft words.

I suppose any other young maiden would swoon if such a handsome and debonair ruler of the sea languished such affection upon them. For me, I preferred the strength of his arms lifting me in the air and the grinding of our lips upon each other as we fell into bed. Ours was a tryst of animalistic aggression.

But the way he smiled at me now as he sat beside me had him looking more like a small pup than a powerful beast. He took my hand and I pulled it away to reach for my ale. Drinking was one of my pirate brother’s past times that I did rather like to indulge in.

Robinson took my hand again, he insisted upon it. I allowed him this time, flashing a small smirk to let him know I appreciated his aggression. He turned my hand over palm up and coiled a link of chain into it. At the end of the necklace a great stone pink in hue stared back at me.

Happy birthday, Khalen, he said.

I turned the stone over and looked at it with curiosity. Did you steal this?

No, I knew you’d disapprove of that. I bought it outright from a vendor in town, he told me. I wanted you to have something special for your birthday.

You always give me something special on my birthday, I said marking my words with a kiss.

We snogged a moment until Robinson pulled away. The seriousness returned to his face. I didn’t like it. There was more danger in giving myself over to someone than any creature lurking at the depths of the sea. I’d sooner fight a thousand sharks than risk the heartache of losing someone again. But Robinson remained undaunted.

It’s rose quartz, he told me. It is meant to open the heart.

Wouldn’t a dagger be better suited for such purposes? I mocked.

You jest but I am serious.

You’re always serious.

Aye, when it comes to you I am.

He plucked the necklace from my hands and wrapped it around my neck. The godawful stone felt uncomfortable and heavy as it pressed against my décolletage. I wanted to rip it off and hurl it across the room but I indulged the Captain. I always indulged him when he grew amorous. If nothing else it meant I had a proper night of romping beneath the sheets in store. But Robinson went deeper with his feelings this time.

They call it a love stone, he said kneeling before me. And this is me professing my love to you.

He’d never told me in words before. Now he let all his cards show. Needless to say my buzz from the ale had vanished and worry took its place. Until recently The Captain and I had shared our beds with a great many different bodies. Only within the last few months had he wanted me, and only me.

Our lust had grown to love, at least for him, and soon he would seek my hand in marriage and the duties of a wife and mother would lay in my future. The thought made me shudder. Mistaking my discomfort for cold, Robinson threw his coat about my shoulders like a true gentleman...not a vicious pirate. I did not like this side of him. He grew soft. The men could see it and they would start to jockey for position. An overthrow would spell trouble for the both of us.

Before their drunken eyes cleared and they began to pry and question our business, I took Robinson by the hand and led him from the inn.

Why don’t you keep me warm in another way?

THE FIRST TIME I SAW the Padfoot it took the shape of a large white dog, a mongrel perhaps, with blood red eyes and a barrel chest. I heard the foul thing with its accursed chains scraping along the floor before it entered my chambers. It bolted me upright in my bed.

My father hadn’t left me much before his untimely death. What I did take with me came posthumously from the writings in his journals. As a great hunter of danger and demons he had charted his time tracking evil inside a leather bound book. There he dictated everything he and my mother came up against. The Padfoot had been mentioned in passing. Its ghostly presence showed up to the unsuspecting, in many different forms, as a warning sign. They say when you hear the chains it means trouble is on the way.

The Padfoot lumbered into the room but spoke not a word, merely stared at me with those red eyes and strings of saliva running from its burly teeth. I slipped naked from the bed, and Captain Robinson’s rough hands, and knelt before the creature.

When our eyes locked I knew immediately the Padfoot had come as my warning. Though what the warning was I did not know. The rose quartz crystal upon my neck burned my flesh until I ripped it off and tossed it across the floor. The Padfoot tracked it with his eyes and then looked back to me. Somehow the dog’s face shifted into the features of a man and just for a moment I thought I saw my brother Khalo staring back at me.

Fear drew me backwards and I crawled away from the Padfoot as fast as I could. It turned and walked back out of our chambers, its feet padding softly across the wooden floor and the wicked chains dragging behind it. I crawled back into bed with Captain Robinson which caused him to wake.

Immediately he began caressing my body. I wasn’t in the mood for his affections but I wanted to forget the Padfoot and the chill of a warning his presence caused within me. In essence I wanted to be anywhere but there in that reality and making love to Captain Robinson helped me to escape it. I’d used him for an escape for as long as I’d known him.

It worked. We ravaged each other like hungry animals. In time I knew nothing but the sensation of pleasure coursing over my body, his hands on my flesh, my lips upon his and my teeth gently biting his ears and neck.

Soon I slept. My slumber brought dreams that held dark and disturbing visions. Rivers of blood and torn flesh ran past me. I tasted the heavy iron of warm blood in my mouth. It was a fitful night and I woke with a start. Captain Robinson remained still next to me.

Daylight crept in through the cracks of the walls cascading light over our room. The heat of it felt particularly harsh upon my skin causing me to pull back into the shadows. As the sun illuminated our bed I noticed Captain Robinson’s eyes were wide open. I went to nudge him hoping he had just fallen into a sound sleep.

Unfortunately, he did not sleep...he was dead.

Not until now did I notice his hand clutching his throat and reminisces of blood dried upon a gaping wound. I recoiled and fell from the bed my mind spinning with wonder.

I looked down at my hands and found dried blood upon them as well and I knew at once it would match Captain Robinson’s own. My stomach churned with nausea. The Captain was dead and all evidence pointed to me being his killer. But I had no recollection of doing it. My worst fears were coming true.

None could know about this. If they found out I’d murdered the Captain I’d be hanged for treason. There was no more time to waste. Chances were the crew would be up and ready to leave port. I looked out the portcullis and my heart leapt in my throat for the second time that day.

The waters rippled beneath the Iron Maiden as it pitched along with fervor towards our next city to pillage. We were already moving. I had nowhere to hide, nowhere to turn. They would find me with Robinson’s corpse and without him around to protect me they would tear me limb-from-limb, but not before having their way with me.

I hadn’t shed tears since I was a little girl, since before my parents died. I didn’t shed any now either but I did feel the sting of loss. I enjoyed Captain Robinson’s company, even as slovenly drunk as he usually was. He had been the one man who came close to scaling the walls and reaching my heart. I’d learned a lot from him. I grew into a woman in his care. Now, like my parents before, he was gone and everything pointed to myself being the responsible party.

I needed to figure out what was happening to me and somehow I knew the presence of The Padfoot had been just the beginning. And Khalo’s face in my dream. What was he trying to tell me? I hadn’t spoken to my brother since we were children.

For all I knew the hazy mess of the dream had been driven only by pure intoxication and had nothing to do with Captain Robinson’s savage death. I couldn’t bear to look at his corpse any longer. His blood had drained causing his face to go gray but curiously I didn’t see any crimson stains upon the bedding.

Though I didn’t want to touch him, and the smell of his decomposing flesh turned my stomach, I moved closer to investigate. Small holes punctured the skin at his neck and the jugular vein beneath. No other wounds were visible, not even defensive marks upon his arms or hands.

Captain Robinson was too skilled to let someone get the jump on him, especially to inflict such an intimate wound. That only cemented my concern. I’d done it, there could be no other explanation. Except I didn’t remember doing it. I didn’t remember anything more than making love with him and then the terrible dreams. I almost wondered if someone had spiked my drink with hallucinogens.

I covered Robinson in the bedding and stood over him for what felt like an eternity. He’d been good to me when no one else had. I would never forget that. For now I needed to get off this ship to safety.

When Gryphant popped into my head I dismissed it at first. Upon thinking it through further I realized that going home made the most sense. I could find Paralay, he could help me. He knew everyone in that damned part of the world. Besides, staying on the ship would spell my death and I had no intention of seeing Captain Robinson again so soon.

I SLIPPED FROM THE Captain’s chambers with a fabricated story and my Kraken club at the ready. With luck and a liar’s tongue I hoped I wouldn’t need the Kraken. It had done well for me in past situations where it meant my life or another’s.

The manner of weapon in and of itself was intimidating enough. It resembled a hatchet at first glance but instead of a butcher’s blade at the end of the wooden handle two rows of spikes jutted out. The grooves were a bitch to clean once blood and sinew built up in them. But leveling a foe impaired or dead with one stroke made up for it.

I located the crew in the galley finishing up breakfast which consisted of mostly stale bread and of course more ale. They stopped eating when I entered. Some stood to attention. Even though they may not like my position at the top of the food chain they sure as hell respected it.

Listen well, men, I began, keeping my voice steadfast and in line with my commandments. We are turning the ship about towards Gryphant post haste.

Pardon, mistress, one of the men said. But why the sudden change in locations?

Especially to that dust filled heap, another called out. His quip brought a jolly round of laughter from the crew. I was in no mood for laughter, or questions for that matter. Slamming the Kraken Club upon the table and shattering a bowl beneath its weight demanded their attention.

Captain’s orders, I said. I suspect that is good enough reason for you all?

They nodded, muttered yes mistress and then proceeded to their stations to mark the turnaround. My plan was working, no reason why it shouldn’t, but I needed one more piece of the puzzle filled before I could move on to the next phase of it.

One more thing, I said. Captain Robinson does not wish to be disturbed for the duration of the journey. He’s grown quite ill and insists upon his rest.

The men all agreed and I hurried myself out onto the deck to take in the sea air. As I did I saw the Padfoot for the second time. It took the shape of a crow and stood perched upon the mast. His yellow eyes burned a fear in me I hadn’t known since I was a child. I shuddered as a sudden chill ran over my skin.

The Padfoot took to the skies with one lone cry. I looked back at the deck once more before heading out knowing in my heart of hearts I would never return to the sea-faring port of Siren’s Cove again.

A love for the sea had taken me far from my homeland when I was just a child. I’d thrived amongst the backdrop of many different waters and the sea itself forged me into the woman I was now.

Returning to Gryphant meant dirt under my boots and tall trees that blocked out the clear sky. It meant facing memories I had long since buried. It meant seeing my brother again. We had not spoken for many years. Each of us had taken different paths but one thing remained true and sound. We were the kin of the demon hunter, the last of his lineage. That was something I always kept close to my heart, if only for myself to know.

The name Khalen Calabrese commanded fear and respect but by my own hand. I was the daughter of the demon hunter but I refused to accept the title, or the duty that came with it. My mark would be made on my terms.

Khalo had left that world behind to follow the path of the mage. He wanted nothing to do with our family’s legacy save for the magic on our mother’s side. That was one of the many traits that separated us for so many years.

I’d never taken to magic the way Khalo had so I stayed clear of it as best as I could. Now it seemed as though I could run from it no longer. But blaming a spell or the dark arts on what happened to Captain Robinson would be fooling myself. I knew what had come over me and it scared me to the core.

Our dark family secret, the one mother told me never to let anyone know not even father, had finally come for me. Steering my ship towards Gryphant had hidden reasoning. I needed to quell the evil churning up inside me like a flame from hell itself.

Paralay had been my father’s best traveling companion for many years. He had raised Khalo and me when my parents had fallen. If anyone would be able to assist me with my recent turmoil it would be him. 

The ship pitched and rocked as we entered unexpected rough waters. I found my stomach turning though I knew it was not from the sea. I held a fond love affair with the sea and usually her waves and the salt on the air caressed me like a mother’s kiss.

But the pit in my stomach was such that it made me double over and sit down. Alistair, burnt crisp by the summer sun and his native Nairobi heritage, squatted down in front of me and offered up his waterskin.

This is the first time I’ve ever seen you succumb to the sea’s playful tussle.

I drank slowly from the skin and shook my head.

It’s not the sea. It’s the destination awaiting me that is making me ill.

How so? Alistair asked.

Even with him kneeling on his haunches he still held a great deal of height on me. But looking up into his soft almond eyes I knew he held my trust and I his. He’d been with Captain Robinson for many, many years and was the first man who welcomed me when I came into the fold without questions.

With Robinson dead Alistair was the only one left from the original crew. We had shared many stories together, we even shared a bed once. But after a while we both conceded to friendship over being lovers and he’d become one of my closest confidants...in fact my only confidant. I shared nothing more with Captain Robinson than a physical attraction and war stories from sea. But we had never been emotionally intimate. That part of myself I reserved for only those who dared pry down my iron gates and force themselves into my heart. For a long time those gates had remained locked, keeping out anything that dare do me harm.

I haven’t had the best of memories on Gryphant, I said.

Yes, I know. That’s why you fled to the sea. To get as much distance between yourself and your past.

It was more of a calling, I confessed. But yes, I jumped at the chance to leave those hard memories in the past.

But you know better than that, Khalen.

Alistair’s words sounded like a schoolmarm spitting out a lecture but I knew where he was going and I knew he was right.

You can’t run away from what’s in your head.

Yes, you’ve told me that before.

It seems now that past has caught up with you.

At his words my stomach delivered a little present to me that I could not hold back any longer. I stood abruptly and leaned over the rail of the ship just as the vomit burned the back of my throat. I hung there for a while as my body purged itself.

Alistair caressed my back and scolded any of the crew who may be staring. When I had finally expelled everything I could from my stomach I looked up into the billowing sails and saw The Padfoot, dark and sinister in a rodent shape, staring after me with two beady little yellow eyes while it clung there. And I knew in that instance that my sudden illness had been a foreshadowing of greater dangers to come.

IT WAS SOME TIME LATER that I was able to keep down a meal and even then it consisted of merely sips of chicken broth. Alistair joined me and I watched him fall upon his meal like a were-beast in heat. With his size and stature he easily put away an entire chicken; two jugs of ale; a full loaf of bread with honey; lamb stew; and the rest of my chicken broth.

Captain Robinson had run into budget troubles more than once just trying to keep the rest of the crew fed and sate Alistair’s enormous appetite. I thought of him rotting away in his bed and it made me uneasy. I wondered how long before someone began to question his whereabouts. It was at least a day to Gryphant. But with the sea itself as our enemy it looked as though the sail might run into unexpected delay. Then they would seek The Captain for answers and I would have to be strong enough to deliver them in his stead.

Alistair motioned to my untouched hunk of bread drying out in the sea air. I shook my head no implying that I had no intention of finishing it. My stomach remained at odds with me. I craved a specific taste, something I could not quite put my finger on. Anything else I tried to put down just came right back up.

I wonder if you have picked up the same illness as The Captain, Alistair said as he tore the bread in half, dipped it in the small pool of broth to get it good and moist, and ate both halves in one gulp.

No, my ailment comes from something much stronger, I told him.

He washed it back with the rest of the ale, leaving a frothy mess upon the dark hairs of his beard. The sight of it made me want to throw up again but I steadied my growing nausea and sipped some water from my skin. Alistair wiped the back of his hand across his face and gave a loud bellow of a laugh.

Khalen, how many times have I told you that you can fight the demons in the mortal realm but not the ones in your head?

Too many times to count, I replied massaging my temples. The scrape of the Padfoot’s chains were still audible somewhere in the hull of the boat, very feint, but still loud enough to grate on my nerves.

Yet, still you don’t listen. You are a stubborn girl.

That’s an honored trait.

One of your finest, he agreed. But the more you fight your internal demons, the weaker you become.

I stood and went to the scuttle to look out upon the darkness of the sea. The conversation had grown just as nauseating as the meal.

What do you propose, Alistair? Shall I go see a soothsayer and find out what ails me?

I think you know what ails you already. You’re just not ready to face it.

I looked at him then, my eyes flashing red only for a moment as the light of the moon spread over them. This made Alistair move back, his hand going quickly to the dagger inside the band of his pants.

I raised my hand and motioned for him to sit. Relax my friend. I have no malice towards you.

It took him a moment but finally he relaxed enough to return to his seat and the scraps of his meal. He opened a new jug of ale and drained it before asking me about my secret.

What by all the Gods was that?

I’ve not been completely honest with you in all these years, my friend. I only tell you this now because I fear once I set out upon my journey I may never see you again. And after all your years of friendship and kindness I felt I owed you the truth.

Tell me all of it, he said. I will not judge you.

I sat myself down, my eyes turning back to the scuttle and the sea that gently rocked our ship like a baby in a cradle.

How can I tell you of a legend when I hardly know of it myself?

Alistair creased his brow in confusion.

But I know of your father’s legacy. You forget my ancestors saw his dominance with their own eyes.

Yes, you’re one of the few who know the truth. But I speak now of my mother.

A brilliant and beautiful woman by all rights.

I turned my sights back to Alistair. The pupils ebbed, wanting to turn back to their crimson hue. I felt the pain in my teeth as they jutted from my gums. I closed my eyes and willed it all back. It had taken years to perfect but I had strengthened my resolve to where I held control over my inner demons...or at least I thought I held control.

Yes, she was beautiful, I agreed. And powerful by her own right. Her father, my grandfather, had been a great mage. A master who imparted his wisdom to all that he deemed worthy...including my father.

Ah, Grandmaster Talos, Alistair said with a smile. Yes, I remember when he died. Mourners from all over the land gathered for his funeral. An impressive lineage, Khalen. Nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve told you that before.

His voice sounded as whimsical as ever but I still hinted an uneasiness in his form. The fingers on his sword hand twitched with the muscle memory of a quick draw. He didn’t know what he just saw but he knew he didn’t like it.

You didn’t let me finish, I said.

Alistair put up his hands and motioned me to continue.

As you know my mother used to travel with my father. Even against his wishes she remained at his side, her love for him was so strong. On one fateful night, when the moon was bright as it is now, they came to battle a great vampire.

Lord LeCarde, Alistair named the beast for me as he had heard tales of my father’s heroics many times before. What he didn’t know, what the storybooks and even my father’s journals had left out, was the incident that took place during that encounter.

Lord LeCarde fancied my mother, I said. Whether he wanted her for his coven or just to rip her away from my father for sport, he whisked her away and left his mark upon her before my father could stop him.

"His mark?

He bit her.

By the Gods!

I continued speaking in a rushed tone to conclude my story before Alistair broke his promise and did indeed begin judging me.

My mother was strong and she fought off the change to vampire long enough for my father to slay LeCarde. It had been told in legend that once the vampire that bites you is extinguished, and having not spilled human blood with a kill, the infected shall return to their former state.

Then all was well?

For a time, I continued. But LeCarde’s lineage dated back millions of years and his blood remained in my mother’s system long after he was gone. But because of his death the power of his bite diluted and my mother was able to fight any transformation.

As I said, a powerful woman your mother.

Powerful enough to keep her vampire tendencies at bay with the help of Grandfather Talos. She never drew blood, she never fully turned, and she never ever told my father the truth. But she did tell us, my brother and me. She wanted us to know, needed us to know, because she feared she may have passed on the infection to us through birth.

And did she?

Alistair’s voice held an uneasiness I’d never heard before. As such I hesitated before answering, though I knew he already sensed what I was going to say.

I know not of my brother Khalo. For all I know he found a spell to ward it off. I bowed my head as I revealed my secret. But a few years back, when my flower bloomed and I became a woman by all rights, I felt more than the physical change of maturity. I felt urges for bloodshed stronger than that of hunting demons. It was a hunger, I wanted to tear the throats of men and drink their blood.

Once again Alistair’s hand fell to the hilt of his dagger. I tried to steady him with my words and conclude the story quickly.

I knew at that moment my mother had been right, that she’d passed the curse down. But I also knew I could fight it. I used everything I’d learned in my training to thwart it. With all of it combined I have been able to keep my vampire nature in check. But something now in my 21st year grows too strong. And as we ride closer to Gryphant, and the moon grows larger and more powerful than ever before, I find the urges returning. That is why I fell ill earlier this day.

You require the blood of man to sustain you. I know of vampire lore. In my native Nairobi they used to steal away our villagers in the night. We would find them the next morning, their bodies drained of blood.

I almost shot out of my skin as Alistair told his tale and I wondered if he knew the truth of things. The image of his pale body laying upon the bed haunted me. He’d been drained of blood just as the villagers Alistair spoke of.

Only a vampire killed in such a way. But my hunger had not been sated. If it had been, if I’d torn him down in the night in our very bed, I would’ve succumb to my dark side by now. And as the moon shown down upon the ship I would tear every living soul on board apart with my bare hands. Yet still I fought my dark side.

That isn’t me, Alistair. The blood of a vampire flows through my veins but I am not one of them.

I didn’t know whether I was trying to convince him or myself. Alistair’s