The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(4)

I snapped off the radio. "Is that an actual question or are you wasting my time with hypotheticals?"

The "Imperial March" from Star Wars blasted out. Not because I was such a fan but because most of my calls these days were on Brotherhood business. The only non-Brotherhood people who had the number were my family and my best friend Leonie Hendricks. She'd been assigned Flight of the Conchords' "Too Many Dicks (On the Dance Floor)" –our anthem once we'd started sneaking into clubs.

"Number's blocked." My stomach clenched. This had to be the call from HQ in Jerusalem that I'd been waiting for.

Rohan slowed to a stop at a red light, then laid his hand on the back of my neck. "You've got this."

"Damn straight," I said, though it took me another ring to steady myself and answer. "Hello?"

"Ms. Katz." Rabbi Mandelbaum managed to make my name sound like an insult.

"Hello, Rabbi." My voice remained neutral, despite my clenched jaw.

"Wait," he barked at me in his Russian accent.

I traced a dick in the window's condensation.

There were two sections to the Brotherhood. Rasha, the hunters out there actually fighting, came from every race and religion, descendants of the original men that King David had chosen to magically fight evil. They weren't all Jewish, and it was kind of interesting to see how far-reaching those original bloodlines had travelled. 

Then there were the rabbis, the ones who cast the spells involved in finding and inducting hunters. The overall pool of rabbis in turn, voted six of their number to form the Executive to govern and oversee everything to do with the Brotherhood. The Executive wielded a fair bit of power and Mandelbutt, as its de facto leader, had the most power of all.

"Ms. Katz, are you still with us?"

I added horns to my drawing. "Ever your faithful servant, Rabbi."

I swear I could hear him grinding his teeth long distance. "Consider this your official permission."

I sagged against the seat in relief. I'd been waiting for the green light to accompany Rohan and another Rasha called Drio Ricci to Prague and the film set of Hard Knock Strife. All to help my Demon Club compadres get proof that mega A-list celebrity Samson King was a demon intent on using humiliation and envy to help achieve his world domination master plan.

Before I could thank the rabbi for allowing me to go, he blew the half point he'd earned in my estimation by adding, "Do exactly what the men say."

My hand tightened on the phone and I punched the seat warmer on with excessive force.

Rohan raised his eyebrows in question but I shook my head at him. He massaged the back of my neck in calming, even strokes.

Religious Jewish men said a daily prayer thanking God for not making them a woman. Rabbi Mandelbaum was probably more effusive than most with that gratitude. Not to mention, the Brotherhood had been a total sausage fest since King David assembled the finest men around him for his secret demon club. Many saw no reason for that to change now.

I had to prove myself a thousand times more than any other new hunter and for most of them, I'd still never be as good as a man. I'd expected to be put on a tight leash with this mission, but this was bullshit. "I'll make sure not to think for myself."

Rohan snorted, returning his hand to the wheel.

"Good." Mandelbutt paused and I seethed. "The Executive will be watching your performance." Meaning he was waiting for a reason to remove me –in whatever form that took.

"I'll do you proud."

He didn't even say good-bye, just hung up on me.

Fuck him. I'd still been given my go ahead and that's all that counted. "Guess who's officially going to Prague?" I crowed.

"I didn't doubt it for a second." Rohan squeezed my thigh. You'd have thought he'd ripped my clothes off, licking his way up my body given the hot, tight coil of lust that wound through me. I was seriously addicted to him. Intervention-level addiction, except for the fact that I didn't believe in interventions. If something didn't kill me, why stop?

I let my legs fall open.

Rohan swung his head my way, his amber eyes molten, until he took in my disarray, grimaced, and focused back on the road.

"Asshole," I said.

"Don't judge."

"But I have no other hobbies."

Rohan grinned at me. "Except poor character judgment since I am a prince among men." He gestured at my towel. "The care I take with you."

We pulled up to Demon Club's gate to be scanned. The house was situated in the Southlands area of the city on a large tract of land, surrounded by forest. Case in point, you couldn't even see the three-story mansion made of chunky stone and large windows or any of its multiple chimneys from the street.