Demon's Bane

 Chapter 1

‘Jana.  Get your gun.’

The words snapped Jana from a rather unpleasant nightmare.  She bolted awake lunging for the knife tucked under the mattress, while her mind trailed behind somewhere in that murky twilight between consciousness and dreaming.  

Focus, she told herself, fighting back a yawn.  Something had woken her up, but what?

 Her nails scratched against the worn leather hilt of the knife, unexpectedly reminding her of the day she’d bought it—even though now wasn’t exactly the best time for nostalgia.   

It had been in a small, unassuming shop in a dark corner of the city most kids her age wouldn’t have ventured alone.  On the outside what looked like a seedy comic store had actually been a front for a Hunter supply shop that sold high-grade weapons.  Nestled in among replica swords, cross bows and throwing daggers Jana had known exactly what she wanted, before she even saw the blade glistening behind a glass case; a top-grade hunting knife made of pure silver.

Albeit, it wasn’t the average purchase of a sixteen-year old.

 The dealer had seemed to think so, and his words ran through her mind making her mouth twitch into a tired smile.

 “That’s a lot of metal for a little girl.”

And maybe it was. 

The blade was six inches of pure tempered steel encased in silver, finely honed into an edge that could slice a hole through a tin can.  It was the kind of weapon you could only get on the black-market nowadays; assassin-grade quality that came in handy when a girl needed to defend herself in the city—or take down a werewolf, or two—but the dealer didn’t need to know that.

Slowly, she ran her thumb over the razor-sharp edge, admiring its sharpness even in the dark.  But, as good as the knife was, it wasn’t a gun, which brought her back to the eerie words that had snapped her awake at what seemed like three in the morning. 

Words so familiar that she could almost picture the person who’d originally said them…even though he’d been dead for four years.

At the moment, that wasn’t important.

Pushing the ghostly words to the back of her mind, she rolled to her side, kicking off the mound of blankets. 

 An icy, winter chill made the room feel like a freezer, and her sweatpants and oversized tee did little to block the cold.  On the frozen floor, her feet shuffled for the sturdy leather boots nearby.  Head jerking up, she shook the hair from her face and strained her eyes to focus through the dark. 

Something had pricked her senses—warning her out of her usual nightmare of being chased by snarling, growling beasts—but what?

As if on cue, that familiar voice rang through her mind again as real as if the person in question had whispered them in her ear:

‘Real good, girl. Ya’ve got ‘em cornered.  Now creep up on em nice and slow…’

 It was strange that she was hearing Data’s voice now, seeing as how she hadn’t heard it in all of the four years he’d been dead.

 Not in her thoughts the days right after…

Not in all the hectic, blurry days since, and certainly not after hunting the monsters that killed him. 

          So why in the hell were her memories choosing to bother her now?

          ‘Don’t get distracted!’ Data’s voice demanded.  ‘Hit.  Gun.  Run.’