Demon Child: Clem Starr: Demon Fighter, #1

DEMON CHILD – CLEM STARR: DEMON FIGHTER #1

This demon fighting business used to be so simple. Get in, dust a pesky incubus, and get out with the cash. My rivals think it’s my boobs that get the job done. Nope. I have a sex thrall that’s cat nip to paranormals.

Now, with a Demon Child on a feeding rampage and a new mayor trying to expose the paranormal world, my job just got tougher. Enter the most infuriating vampire I've ever met, and for the first time ever I doubt my ability to get the job done.

I'll have to rely on my wits, my skills and worst of all, teamwork! We might all be doomed.

ROGUISH DEMON, THE fun prequel to the Clem Starr series is only available to my VIP list. Want in on that?

Yep, you do.

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It all started with three simple words: ‘It’s my wife...’. Music to my ears. He had an incubus on his hands and I just so happened to be the top incubus fighter in the business.

Little did I know that the ingenious Liderc – one of the more unusual demons I’ve come across - would make me work harder than ever before. Now, I have to kill this bozo before my client and his money walk out my door.

It’s Clem Starr versus Liderc, and I never lose.

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THE FULL CLEM STARR SERIES

#1 Demon Child

#2 Moonlight Virgin

#3 Vampire Prince

#4 Undead Alchemist

#5 Mystery Widow

#6 Super Starr

Extras:

Merry Clem-Mas – join Clem and the gang in this fun Christmas short.

Prefer box sets, the cheaper way to buy...

Clem Starr box set (books 1-3)

Clem Starr box set (books 4-5)

The complete Clem Starr box set (books 1-6)

Chapter 1 Club Soho

WHEN PORTIA MANCHELLI called me at 4 a.m., I thought it pretty damn rude. I hadn’t heard from her in about five years, for starters. Well, there was that time she invited me to a baby shower. Why, I’ll never know. I’m not a baby shower going person. I’m not a keeping in touch with people I went to school with person, even. But, at least I’m an awake at 4 a.m. person.

Not that I was doing anything exciting. I don’t sleep good these days, so I’d been cleaning my jewelry. You wouldn’t believe the gunk you get mushed into it fighting demons. I didn’t have a lot of bling. A wolf head ring that a witch sold me at a market. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t a real witch. She’d said the eyes would flash if I was in danger. I’d been in danger about half a dozen times a week since I got it and those eyes had never flashed. Still, it was real silver, so if the pointy wolf nose didn’t do a bundle of damage, the metal could sizzle the skin off a demon. I also had a schorl ring for protection and a crucifix necklace. You had to have all your bases covered.

It took me a minute to get what Portia wanted.

There’s something going on at Club Soho. The police won’t let us go down there. They won’t tell us anything.

She stopped and took a deep breath. Long enough for me to wonder why she’d called in the middle of the night to tell me this. Another drug raid, no doubt. They did them every so often.

Cassie’s there. She sobbed. She’s not answering her phone, and we don’t know...

I don’t see how I can help.

Cassie was Portia’s younger sister. If she’d been busted for drugs, they’d be better off calling a lawyer, or pretty much anyone but me.

It’s one of the weird things you’re involved in. That creepy stuff.

She’d talk all night if I didn’t agree to check it out, and maybe there was some demon hunting money to be made. Better to be first on the scene than to be usurped by my rival, Harry McConchie.

Here’s the most important thing you need to know about demon fighting. It’s not a noble calling, it’s not about saving the world. It’s a job. You do the work, you get the money. People pay well to get rid of demons, just like they do termites and rats.

I took off my sweats, put on a skirt and some warm tights. T-shirt, leather jacket and a scarf. And my big kick-ass fighting boots.

I figured if the fuss at Soho wasn’t a drug raid, it’d be some girl who’d been lured into the back alley by a vamp or demon. I’d get down there and clean up the site, remove all traces of the paranormal, then hunt down the perp. All out of the public eye. These jobs for city hall were never that exciting, but they were my bread and butter, literally. At the moment, the fee for a job like that meant the difference between eating this month or not, and you needed a lot of carbs for demon fighting.

If I could pick up some work and put Portia’s mind at ease, I guessed it was worth the effort.

That girl in the alley wouldn’t be Cassie. I didn’t know her well, but she seemed too smart for that. Someone had told me recently that she’d been offered an internship with a big fashion magazine. Exciting stuff. She probably just hadn’t charged her phone, or was ignoring Portia’s calls. I’d ignore Portia’s calls if I was her. By the time I got to the club, she’d be at home in bed and this would be a wasted trip.

On the way, one of those hipster coffee carts was just opening up, so I grabbed a cup of joe to warm me and keep me awake.

Kenyan or Ethiopian? the hipster asked me.

I don’t give a rat’s ass. I want it hot and I want it strong, that’s all that matters.

An ambulance screamed past as I waited for him. Damn sirens are way too noisy for this time of day.

The early morning air chilled me. Mornings, what are they good for? Sleeping is all. Sleep would be mighty fine around about now.

In my misspent youth, I’d have been leaving Soho around this time. Maybe alone, maybe not. This was the first time I’d arrived there at this time of day, though. Sober. With just a coffee in my hands.

How the hell had I enjoyed all those nights in a place filled with thudding music and cheap aftershave? Twenty-six is way too old for clubbing. I hung up my dancing shoes a few years back and took up demon fighting instead. I’d much rather slink around the streets hunting for misbehaving demons than deal with sleazy douche canoes. At least you can kill demons with no repercussions. And get paid for doing it.

When I rounded the corner, my coffee nearly fell from my hand. The street teemed with people. Ambulances. Cops crawling all over the place. Blue and red siren lights instead of the yellow neon sign flashing Club Soho. And, over it all, sobs and wails.

Across from the club, the mayor beamed down from a billboard. Cleaning up Melbourne, the billboard said. Ironic, considering. This was a mess even a swell guy like the new mayor would have trouble cleaning up.

You’ve seen those reports on the evening news of natural disasters? You know, the ones with the montage of images. Cops dragging people to safety, paramedics working to save lives, shell-shocked faces not believing this was happening to them.

This was just the same, only this disaster sure as hell wouldn’t be natural. And it sure as hell was no drug raid.

Shit like this didn’t happen in my town. Sure, it was a hotbed of paranormal activity, but there was a balance, an order. Sometimes vamps and other demons got out of hand and I got called in to sort things out. But they were one-off attacks, always kept on the down-low.

I rushed over to a group of clubbers all huddling around together. When I got near, I realized they were partitioned into the area by the cops, yellow tape holding them in.

Most of them wore skimpy outfits, bare legs on the girls, bare chests on the guys. Sometimes the other way around. Surely they’d get frostbite. Had no one thought to open up the coat check? Why hadn’t they been sent home? Maybe they were witnesses, but having them in a place where they could watch the bodies being wheeled out on gurneys made no sense.

I walked up to the first cop I saw.

I’m looking for a girl called Cassie Manchelli.

Everyone’s looking for someone here. Check out this mess. It’ll be a day or two before we can release a list.

One girl with her arms wrapped around her called out to the cop.

Can we go? Why are you making us stick around? She sounded like she could barely hold it together, her voice rising with panic.

Can’t. We’ve got orders.

The paramedics pushed past with a stretcher. The mangled body hadn’t been covered. People screamed. A couple of girls near me hugged each other, trying to hide their faces.

It seemed as though the body was being flaunted. I’d been to some awful cleanup jobs in my time, but the MO was always to cover up. If there were witnesses, get them out of the way and convince them that they hadn’t seen the things they had.

Janie? a guy yelled and tried to rush to the body. A cop stepped forward, making sure he couldn’t break out of the herding area.

A girl clutched my arm.

Are you going in there? My friend, Hana... I can’t find her. She’s not here... The girl sobbed. Help me find her.

That reminded me why I was here. Cassie. Was she in the crowd?

I pushed my way through the clubbers, looking for her. I only had a vague idea of what she looked like. I hadn’t seen her since high school. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket, checking her Facebook. Luckily she’d posted tons of selfies. Long black hair. Healthy looking, like she played tennis. That could’ve been half the girls around me.

Cassie? I called out. Cassie Manchelli?

Most of the people around me were so shell-shocked that they wouldn’t know their own name let alone anyone else’s. Tear-stained faces looked up at me, as though I could give them answers.

You’ve still got your phone? Let me use it? some guy said.

He tried to swipe the phone from my hand, but I swung away from him.

Half a dozen faces turned, looking at me like starving men eyeing a steak. My phone. They’d had their phones taken from them? Fuuuuck. I needed to get the hell out of here before I got mobbed. I shoved the phone deep in my pocket, put my head down and rushed out.

We’re all going to die, a girl wailed.

I patted her arm. Awkwardly. Human contact like that didn’t come naturally to me.

You should be fine now. So long as you don’t get hypothermia. Try to keep warm.

I’d get no information out of any of these kids. They were too distraught. Hopefully, one of my contacts on the force was around. I climbed under the police tape. At any time, any of those clubbers could have done that. What would the cops do if they decided to leave? It’s not like the cops could control them all. Most of them were busy getting the bodies out. I guess people don’t like to defy authority.

As I walked toward the club door, one of the cops doing crowd control put his arm out to stop me.

Get back over there, he said, indicating the clubbers.

I’m part of the investigation.

He eyed me up and down, checking out my outfit. I didn’t know there was a crime scene dress code. If he had a clue, he’d realize this wasn’t club wear.

Yeah, sure you are, girlie.

I could’ve kicked his ass for that, but there were too many people around and that wouldn’t help get me inside. I’d need a distraction but, in the midst of this chaos, it’d take an almighty calamity to distract people any further.

And, as if made to order, everyone went quiet and turned in one direction.

A big black car pulled up. The mayor got out. Younger than he looked on his posters, handsome in a clean-cut way. Perfect teeth, perfect wavy hair, manly square jaw and a really well-cut suit. No wonder people loved him. He shook hands with people and patted them on the arms as he walked toward the club.

I made a run for the door, cutting through the starstruck crowd. Jeez, rein it in, people. This was a disaster area, not a fan meet.

One cop, more on the ball than the others, stopped me as I raced up the stairs to the club door. He grabbed my shoulders and tried to push me away.

Get your hands off me, I yelled.

As he let me go, the mayor walked toward me.

Clementine Starr. You got my message? I’ve been meaning to call you since I came into office. We need to talk.

I’d gotten no message from him, but he rested his hand on my arm and it reassured me. If anyone else called me Clementine, they’d get a punch in the face, but he was the mayor and this was an emergency. The mayor would take care of things.

Chapter 2 Harry McConchie

YOU’LL HAVE TO WAIT awhile, the mayor said. But I want you to see this.

I nodded.

Go wait over by my car and finish your coffee. I’ll send someone for you when you can come in.

I leaned against the mayor’s car, sipping my coffee.

Storm clouds started to gather. I huddled in my jacket, hoping the mayor would be back before the rain started. At least he’d do something about those poor clubbers gathered outside. They needed to be home, where it was warm, with their friends or family.

I’d quit smoking a year ago, but I’d have killed a man for a cigarette. Hopefully, the mayor would be able to help me track down Cassie Manchelli.

My phone beeped. It was a message from the mayor asking me to come down here. He hadn’t been lying about that; the message had just been delayed.

A familiar shape sauntered down the street wearing a fedora. Bloody hell, Harry McConchie. That was the last thing I needed. I hate a lot of people in this world, but there is no one in this world I hate like I hated him.

There were two Demon Fighters in this town. One of them was made of awesome, and that was me. The other one was mediocre at best but had a shit ton of family money and connections. That was Harry McConchie.

I didn’t need his bullshit right now.

Morning, he said when he got closer.

I grunted.

Come on, Starr, smile. It might never happen.

If I had the energy, I’d have kicked him in the nuts. I didn’t owe anyone a smile, especially not that jerk.

It already has. Look at this mess.

I gave him a look that was the visual equivalent of a kick in the balls instead. Couldn’t he see the chaos all around him? Jeez, people said I lacked empathy.

How’s work?

Fantastic, I said. I’m super busy. Don’t have time to scratch myself. I only turned up here today because I care about public safety. It’s really taking time out of my busy schedule.

That was complete bullshit. I’d be lucky to have the money to make rent this month. I was not about to tell him that, though.

He leaned on the car beside me, all buddy-like. I stood up and stretched.

Demon fighting is a mercurial profession. A few months ago, I had clients coming out my butt. Money to burn. God knows what happened to that money, because I had none of it now. I did have a mighty fine pair of boots, though, and I’m pretty sure that I could claim them on my tax because you can’t kick a demon’s ass without boots.

Even in the midst of all this horror, we both had the same thought. Maybe it was a bit self-serving, but whoever got this case would have it made. It would be the opportunity of a lifetime. You might not get public recognition in this line of work, but you did get something, and that something was the Demon Fighter award. I’d won it three years running. McConchie, never.

He’d need to paste on a smile when I won the Demon Fighter award again this year. He’d have that same grin he had every year, the one that tried to say I don’t really care about this shit when you knew his heart was filled with man-tears.

Thing was, I’d won it with sheer numbers. Lots of small cases, all wins, no losses. A case like this one would eclipse all that with its sheer enormity.

I guess you do have those ‘secret weapons.’ In case I didn’t get his meaning, he pointedly stared at my tits. So much easier if you’re a woman.

My specialty in demon fighting was sex demons, incubi and the like. For some reason, I had this sexual aura that was like crack cocaine to them. I didn’t really understand, but hey, if it got me clients, I’d use it. For guys like McConchie, that made me somehow a lesser hunter. Even though most of McConchie’s business was built up using his dad’s money.

Before I could put him in his place, the mayor came back out.

We followed him to the doors of the club.

I’ll take you in here, but prepare yourself. It’s a nasty business.

I patted the mayor’s arm.

Don’t worry about me. I’ve been doing this for years.

One of the cops opened the club doors for us and the smell hit me. I’ve been in some putrid places in my life, but this one... it smelled just like when you walk through the butcher stalls at a market, only a thousand times more concentrated.

My stomach churned. Shit, I did not want that coffee coming straight back up again, especially in front of the mayor and McConchie. I covered my nose and went inside.

What the hell happened here? I asked.

McConchie’s face was whiter than an ancient vampire’s, and his hands shook. I’d have mocked him mercilessly, but I had a horrible feeling that I looked no better.

We’d walked into a slaughterhouse.

Chapter 3 Carnage

IN THE SEMIDARKNESS of the room, you couldn’t pick out details, but you could see enough. Body parts everywhere. No blood, that had all been drained except for a few splatters up the wall. Tables and stools overturned and smashed.

The silence of a room that normally pumped with music just made it all the more eerie.

It’d been carnage.

The bodies drained of blood usually meant only one thing. Vampires. No question about that.

My stomach turned. Shit, I hated vampires. Regular demons were bad, but vampires... all that neck biting and thinking they were so freakin’ hot. They drove me nuts, and it’d gotten worse lately with all these best-selling books and TV shows glamorizing them. There was even one jerk doing the motivational speaking circuit. People didn’t know he was a vamp, but you could tell. Jeez, spare me.

Vampires aren’t sensitive and sparkly. And they don’t drink animal blood instead of hunting humans. Vampires love hunting people, and they love killing shit. It’s just the way they are. Plus, with all that blood drinking, their breath really stunk.

Even so, vampires didn’t kill like this. They tended to be neat and picky. They covered their tracks. That’s how they survived, keeping it all underground. It’d been that way for centuries, and it was the only way for humans and vampires to coexist.

Maybe it wasn’t a vampire at all but some kind of bloodsucking werebeast.

I stepped further into the room. Something touched my foot.

Yikes!

It was just the leg of a barstool. Phew, that was a small relief. With so many body parts scattered around the place, I was scared about treading on the wrong thing.

The mayor touched my arm. The medical team was trying to get through. They didn’t need us getting in their way. Poor bastards.

Walk around this way, he said. They’ve cleaned up most of this area.

Cleaned up the bodies, he meant. We walked through the jumble of chairs and tables. Broken glass crunched under our feet. Random debris mixed into the mess—jackets and shoes and smashed lipsticks, money and drugs and eyeliner. People had been so eager to flee that they hadn’t given a shit about their belongings.

We think it started on the dance floor.

We stood back behind the railing, not wanting to get any closer.

The tangle of bodies made it hard to tell just how many people had been fed on. If I had to clean this up, I’d do it, but otherwise, I didn’t want to look too hard. I didn’t want those images burned into my brain. And the smell, it would only get worse as the day heated up.

I’ve got to get them identified and contact the families, the mayor said.

I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be the one calling their families. I could cope with pretty much anything in this world but that.

Hell, who did this? I asked.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to come straight out and say vampires to the mayor. He was new on the job, and you can’t just blurt out vampires to someone not acquainted with the paranormal history of the city. On the other hand, the mayor had invited me in here, and McConchie as well. He couldn’t exactly be clueless about this stuff.

I figured I’d put out some feelers, find out how much the mayor knew and how much he wanted to know. Build up to the whole vampire thing.

Demon Child, said Harry McConchie, like he was the last word on the subject.

Demon Child? No way.

McConchie folded his arms and smirked. I really wanted to punch him.

Okay, slow buildup was out of the question now. The mayor didn’t look particularly fazed by McConchie’s answer, though. He obviously knew it’d been something not quite human. Hell, you just had to look at these bodies to know that. Unless you were in complete denial, that was the only conclusion you could make.

It has all the signs of his work. Turning up at a place where lots of young people gather. The mass destruction. He’s no ordinary vampire, and when he feeds, he goes into a frenzy.

I know that. I’m the one who wrote the book on the history of paranormal creatures in this city. I gave McConchie a look to put him in place. But he’s asleep. No one would wake him. The vamps want him comatose as much as we do. It took powerful magic to put him into an endless sleep, and it’d take powerful magic to wake him.

That’s pretty much all I knew about the Demon Child. No one had told me I needed to do research for this.

McConchie walked away from us, still staying to the edges of the room, where there was less carnage.

Normal vampires stick to the dark to feed. Maybe one or two victims a month. Some have even gathered their own little feeding teams, keeping them alive as food.

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t need him mansplaining vampires to me.

"The Demon Child feeds, then sleeps it off. Sometimes for twenty, thirty years, but the last