The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(28)

A black shoe stepped into my field of vision. "You are Rasha? How?" I couldn't see the speaker but it was a woman, albeit one with a raspy Israeli accent.

"Bite me, demon," I ground out. Probably not ideal to taunt her, but my skin was starting to blister so my judgment was less than sound.

Dr. Gelman stepped into my field of vision. Gaunt, she'd lost a lot of weight since the photo I'd seen. Her sweater hung off her frame. "You think I'm a demon?"

I couldn't answer her, too busy convulsing at her ongoing magic torture. A head-to-toe spasm racked me with such force that my body bucked off the ground before I bowed backwards, crashing back down head first. My eyes bugged out. I turned my head so she wouldn't see the tears leaking out of my eyes. I'd have done anything to get Ari inducted as Rasha, but hadn't I paid accordingly yet?

I felt a shift in her magic binding and my power shot out of me, dissipating harmlessly into the air. Sweet release, other than the throbbing mess of my post-zmey-encounter body. "Was the zmey going to finish me off too quickly?" I sneered. "Had to fuck with me some more?"

"I should not have left you there so long." A flash of regret passed over her features. "I'm going to let you up," she said. "But if you use your power in any way, you'll be sorry. Understood?"

My tiny head jerk sufficed for a nod. I couldn't sit up. Trying resulted in a whimper. I clutched my hips.

Dr. Gelman placed a hand on either side of me, doing something surprisingly unevil with her magic that relieved much of the pain. Then she propped me onto my feet, where she half-dragged, half-pushed me into the chair.

I sat there, head bowed. Why had Rabbi Abrams sent me here? I hadn't thought he'd wanted me dead, but I'd been wrong so many times before.

The bed creaked as Dr. Gelman sat down on the mattress across from me.

I raised my head to meet her eyes. She leaned forward, arms braced on her thighs. "If you're not a demon," I said, "why did you send me to that alternate dimension?" Exhaustion trumped anger. 

"Answer me this first. Who gave you my email? Why did you send me that message?"

I was reluctant to answer because Rabbi Abrams had mentioned she didn't like the Brotherhood but at my hesitation, she conjured up a less intense invisible band to pin me against the chair. Enough to put an uncomfortable pressure on my rib cage. "Rabbi Abrams."

To my shock, she barked out a laugh, which turned into a hacking cough. Able to move again, I rose in concern to help her, but she waved at me to stay where I was.

"That slick talker? He's still alive?" she asked.

I tried to reconcile the rabbi I knew with a slick talker and failed. "Maybe it's a different Rabbi," I said.

"Short? Ancient?" I nodded. "That's him. He dated my sister ages ago. Broke her heart."

"The zmey and the troll?" I prompted. I wriggled my legs. My hips didn't blaze with pain anymore, more of a dull ache.

"That wasn't an alternate dimension. I portalled you under the city. Tons of tunnels crisscrossing Europe. I didn't know what you'd encounter, but after receiving that email, I figured better safe then sorry."

"Got a washcloth?" My hands and forearms were splattered with blood from being sliced by the zmey's scales. Most of it was dried but one gash had opened again and was trickling freely. I looked like I'd been performing open heart surgery with my bare hands.

She jabbed a finger at me. "You look like shit."

I scrubbed the non-bleeding hand over my face. "Seriously?"

"I meant the outfit."

"Don't be fooled by the togs," I said. "They're working attire."

She raised an eyebrow at me.

"Not like that. Actually," I amended, "kind of like that. But I'm undercover."

"I bet you're the picture of elegance normally."

"I have a certain je ne sais quoi style, thank you very much." Since I wasn't dead, I felt justified in returning to my normal mouthiness. "I don't suppose you have a Gatorade?"

"No."

"Water?"

She narrowed her eyes at me then headed into the bathroom.

I sat up, rolling out my neck and shoulders, one tight millimeter at a time. "The reason I'm here is because twenty years ago the Brotherhood identified my twin brother Ari as an initiate. Then at his induction ceremony a few weeks ago, we realized that oops! Wrong twin."

Mom was a direct descendent of King David. Her bloodline meant that when Ari had been born, the Brotherhood had checked to see if he carried the Rasha potential. Since the Brotherhood is big on the "secret" part of secret organization, my parents hadn't been aware of the true purpose of Rabbi Abrams' visit back then. While all male baby descendants of David and those first Rasha were tracked and tested, only a fraction of these potentials passed the first ritual and were bumped up to initiate status. It was only after Ari was confirmed among that number that my parents, much to their shock, were filled in about demons, hunters, and their son's very important destiny.