Between the Bleeding Willows (The Demon Hunters Series Book 1)
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Authors: D.A. Roach
Between the
Bleeding Willows
The Demon Hunter Series, Book 1
By: D.A. Roach
Between the Bleeding Willows
Copyright © 2015 by D. A. Roach.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: March 2016
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-526-1
ISBN-10: 1-68058-526-6
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my JellyBean for inspiring me to write a book about Demons during my favorite time of year.
Table of Contents
“Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny.”
—C.S. Lewis
Cassidy
I had no idea what you brought to a ghost hunt. Camera, pen, paper, flashlight, Jace’s picture, and a hoodie—this would have to do. I shoved the items into my army green denim backpack, along with my cell phone and wallet.
Did I believe in ghosts? If you’d asked me two weeks ago, the answer would have been “No way.” But after last weekend—when I saw Jace, my dead boyfriend, at the Blaylock Grove cemetery—everything changed.
***
Jace was my high school boyfriend for the past four years. We met freshman year in gym class when his poor aim pelted me in the back of the head with a volleyball. At the time, I wasn’t able to tell if it was an accident. I mean, if I hit someone on accident, I wouldn’t have the nerve to laugh about it. I was so angry at him for weeks, but his persistent apologies finally had worn me down. In fact, they were rather endearing.
I began to notice him more. His sandy blond hair had a little bit of a wave to it that was more noticeable when it was longer. He had faint freckles on his cheeks and the bluest eyes. He looked trim with a small waist and muscular upper body, much like swimmers had.
One day during passing period, he leaned against the locker next to me, looking at the people passing in the hall. He had his thumb hooked in his belt loop, as he always had, and he looked amazing in his tight jeans and fitted tee.
“So I have the perfect idea. Clearly it is not enough to apologize to you.” He paused. "So…you need to meet me in the gym after school today."
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you anything more. Just promise you’ll come.” He turned to face me now, his face changed from serious to a smile.
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Good. I promise it will be good.” He looked so pleased with my answer. He turned and walked casually away, whistling “Pretty Women” from
Sweeney Todd
. It was an earworm that he regularly had stuck in his head. I watched him till he turned the corner. Persistent guy. Although it was kinda fun to play with Jace, I felt bad for dragging it on for so long. It was time to let him off the hook. After classes, I walked to the gym. Jace was already there, whistling “Pretty Women” again and pouring a hopper of tennis balls into a Lobster Ball Machine.
I cleared my throat.
“Hey, you’re here. Thanks for coming.”
“What is this?” There was no one else there—just Jace and I.
“Revenge. Come on, let me show you how to turn this baby on.” He pointed out how to adjust the angle and the on/off switch.
“You want me to pelt you with tennis balls?”
“I do.” He’d walked away from me and stood in direct aim of the Lobster.
“Well, I’m not sure I want to do this.”
“You need to. It’s only fair, and then we can put the past behind us.”
“Are you sure?” He nodded, and I turned on the machine. Standing still, he took the first few hits without flinching. Then he began backing up and wincing with some of the hits. “Want me to stop?”
“Not till it’s empty, babe.”
Oh God, I had to watch this? I peeked into the machine; it looked like we were halfway through. “Maybe turn around and give your front a break,” I suggested.
“Good idea.” He turned around and held still till the flinching and moving away from the machine began again.
“Flip again.”
“God, how many are left?”
I had to stifle my laugh. “Umm, about seven.” There really were about twenty left in the machine but I decided to turn it off after seven.
“That’s it? All of them?”
I looked in the machine to act like I was double checking. “Every last one.” Quickly, I grabbed a few balls that had rolled my way and threw them in to disguise the ones I hadn’t launched.
“Good.” He walked over to me with a handful of balls he’d collected along the way. Some noticeable red circles marked his arms from hits. Once the balls fell from his arms into the machine, he turned to me and closed the space between us. “Cassidy Kavanaugh, I am so, so sorry I laughed when I accidentally hit you with the volleyball. I should have apologized right away instead of laughing. Can you please forgive me?” His measurable sincerity took my breath away.
“Yes, I forgive you, Jace Peters. Don’t you dare do it again.”
He raised one hand. “I swear.” Then he stepped closer so he was in my personal space. It made me uncomfortable. “Now, I think you owe me.”
I raised an eyebrow, wondering how I could owe him.
“You see, I only hit you with one ball. But you shot about seventy balls at me. I’m feeling attacked and vulnerable.” His mouth twisted into a coy smile, and it was contagious.
“Oh really? Do you need me to apologize?”
“No. I need you to help me feel better. I’m thinking dinner and a movie tomorrow night.”
“Are you asking me out?”
“Call it what you want, babe.” He looked at me with a serious face. “Say yes.”
“Yes.”
“Woo hoo!” He picked me up in huge hug. “I think half my pelt marks went away with that answer.”
The next four years of high school were some of the happiest of my life. Jace became a part of my small family. I never knew my mom or dad. Gram had told me Mom had hooked up with some random guy and had fallen madly in love with him. She’d ended up pregnant with me, and the guy had disappeared. My mom had died giving birth to me.
Gram had been all I had, and she had raised me, doing the best she could. Her sweet, loving, and strong demeanors were all the characteristics you’d want in a motherly figure. But it was quiet at home with just the two of us. On Saturdays Jace would take me out, and on Sundays he’d help us with our yard work and stay for dinner. He filled a hole I hadn’t realized existed in my life.
On April twenty-fourth, the day of our dating anniversary, Jace got off work late and called to tell me he was on his way to pick me up. He never showed. Halfway between his work and my house, his car wrapped around a wood post near the Blaylock Grove Cemetery. The coroner said he’d died on impact, and they could not determine the cause of the accident. I never found out
exactly
what caused the crash; I just knew my life would never be the same.
Gram slept with me the first week after Jace died. I cried for hours and hours, her loving arms wrapped around me let me know I was not alone. Her words comforted me, her embrace reminded me I was loved, and she was my rock.
But everyday life without Jace was difficult, and it took everything in me to finish my senior year. I did not go to prom; I did not hang out with friends. Thankfully, my grades were good enough to cushion my month of academic neglect. Gram wanted me to graduate. I think she hoped it would distract me from my sorrow, but I couldn’t walk down a hallway without thinking about Jace and I holding hands, planning our weekends. He was gone and I was left here, alone and heartbroken. So many times I sat in class, the monotonous voices called for my attention, but I couldn’t focus on them. Not when all I felt was the gaping hole in my chest. All the plans and dreams we created died with him that night. My future looked bleak.
I made it to graduation day, and Gram was so proud of me. She knew I pushed through for her. At the ceremony, she stood and clapped as they announced my name, and her face had the most angelic smile. School was important to Gram. She had been excited that Jace and I were accepted to a university an hour away from home. But when he’d died, and I’d phoned the school to retract my enrollment, she’d voiced her disappointment. There was no way I could have gone there without him, though. Gram was not happy that I’d done that, but she understood my reasons and made me promise to enroll in a junior college for the fall semester. It was a fair compromise for both of us.
But one Tuesday afternoon, everything changed. Gram was ironing our clothes and went in the kitchen to refill the iron. I heard a loud clatter and a thud. I ran in as fast as I could; Gram lay on the ground, the iron in the sink, cord hanging to the ground.
Despite all efforts to resuscitate her, Gram never came back. She died of a heart attack in our kitchen.
Gram was gone. I was truly alone. I hadn’t even healed from the loss of Jace and then Gram passed. And when she died, there was no one left to hug me in the night, no one to tell me it would be okay.
I was alone.
***
The reason I’d gone to the cemetery last time was to find a ring Jace had been wearing. A ring I’d given him that wasn’t recovered from the crash.
I’d acquired the ring years ago when I was young and had fallen ill with a terrible virus. Gram had placed the ring on a chain for me to wear around my neck and had said it would protect me and help me heal. It must have worked because I’m still standin’ here today. Gram had said my DNA-donating dad gave it to my mom after impregnating her and before taking off, never to be seen or heard from again. I don’t know if it had any magic spells on it, but I’d recovered from my illness and grew up healthier than most around me. I wore it every day until Jace needed it more than me.
The ring, my connection to Gram and Jace, might still be on the roadside. I knew finding it would not bring them back, but it would bring me some comfort and closure.
***
Eight months ago, Jace was taking the trash out to the dumpster behind his work when three guys jumped him. One slashed his leg open with a knife. Although it was a bad laceration, the doctor said the worst of his injuries were the severed nerves. His wounds healed, but Jace grew frustrated with the amount of work and physical therapy needed to help him walk normally.
“When you feel nothing but pins and needles, it’s hard to set your foot down the right way.” He’d manage a few steps before his injured leg would crumple beneath him. I knew he needed some hope, so I gave him my mother’s ring. I decided to not tell him that it might heal him; I wasn’t sure if it really had that ability. But he gladly wore it around his neck, a symbol of my love and support that he proudly displayed.
But that little golden circle must’ve been magical, because Jace began walking without complaint within a week. The therapist remarked on his quick improvement and congratulated him on his hard work, but Jace and I knew better. He didn’t need the ring after that day, but I never asked him for it back. In fact, I liked seeing it around his neck. It marked him as mine, taken.
***
Last weekend, I had parked at the Raven Woods parking lot and walked across the busy four-lane road to the small ditch on the other side. After an hour of searching the roadside without any luck, the sun had finally set and I’d realized that without the added light from the sun, there would be no hope in finding the ring.
As I’d walked along the guardrail back toward my car, I had heard footsteps coming from the trees several yards away. My eyes had searched the dark forest perimeter for the source of the sound. And then I’d seen him, standing at the edge of a small clearing in the wooded lot, looking just as I had remembered him. But it couldn’t have been. My eyes must have been playing tricks on me because the figure that had appeared before me had looked like Jace, and Jace was dead. The figure had darted off, twigs cracking as he retreated. Seeing him had stolen my breath away, both from fear and excitement. How could this be possible? I had wanted to chase after him, to gain a closer look, but the forest had been very dark and I’d neglected to bring a flashlight. If I’d known this area, I might have had the confidence to follow him, but never having been here before, I hadn’t been able to muster up the courage to run boldly into the black forest ahead—not even for a closer look. Instead, I’d shouted his name over and over again.
***
That night, I was desperate to find the necklace that held my mom’s ring. Or Jace. I allowed extra time to search before the shroud of darkness set in. The first hour turned up nothing; I looked toward the horizon and saw the sun retreating as night began to set in.
To my left, a thick chain linked two wooden pillars, barricading a dirt path. A small metal sign hung from the chain:
‘
CLOSED’
. I sat down on one of the pillars to rest and stared down the overgrown path. Blaylock Grove. No sign told that the path beyond the chain led to the abandoned cemetery. But when I was growing up, kids told tales of people gathering here at night to worship Satan. The stories of this haunted cemetery and the rituals people did here, so close to my house, were eerie.
I looked to the spot I swore I’d seen Jace last weekend. There was nothing but trees and shadows. I wanted to see him again. I wanted him back in my life. Each day, I struggled to see the point in waking up and going through the motions when he wasn’t a part of it.
The sun moved down another notch in the sky and glinted off something in the weeds near my foot. I crouched down and saw the treasure I had hunted for. The necklace. I picked it up and studied it. The golden circle suspended from the chain looked like an ordinary ring. Upon closer inspection, there was an inscription on the inside that seemed to have a blue shimmer in the right light. I turned it around until the glowing inscription was easy to read.
