Marisol DeJesus: The Bruja (Book 2)

First Hunt

Walking the streets of midnight dressed like a cosplayer had never crossed Marisol’s mind as something to do. But she and Jeremy were going to be hunting demons and needed to take precautions in attire. So he rocked a leather trench coat he spelled that protected him from their flames, talons, and acidic spit.  

His belt was lined with different colored balls and he promised his sister he’d pull out the silver automatic if need be.  

Marisol was dressed weird too sans her jeans and boots. It was her family’s leather vest that was a perfect fit for her. Like a modern medieval garment, the blue vest sat on her snug. She lifted the hood over her black curls as she stalked side by side with Jeremy. It was weird how some humans couldn’t see them and those who did soon forgot.  

It was like being a ghost.  

Crossing a street, they were in Queens where Brianna had felt the most disturbing presence tonight. Jeremy and Marisol were turning a corner when both suddenly moved.  

He went to the left and seemed to disappear while she threw up her blade to block the next attack. Four demons stood side by side, mouths open like they’d eaten a stick of dynamite. Eyes red and crazed, one was what used to be a mechanic in dirty overalls came at her. 

But when she swung, he jumped back and did a weird cracking motion with his neck. Cackling disturbingly, he gleefully proclaimed, “Two witches? Just our looks boys! We’re eating good tonight.”  His voice warbled like a broken voice modifier. 

Stalking from the shadows, Jeremy spat out at them, “Gaspiye nanm.” Marisol c****d an eyebrow, “For the people who don’t speak creole please?” Meeting her eyes, Jeremy informed her, “Wasted souls, humans whose fed their hopes and dreams into a demon thinking they were getting a bargain. All they do is get turned into these f*****g things and end up killing innocent people. They're appearing more and more lately.”  

Holding up her blade, the moonlight shining off it beautifully, Marisol faced the demons still cackling as their bodies twisted unnaturally, “Well then, let's put them out of their misery.” A demon rushed Marisol, but she was quicker and slid a leg under him.  Hitting him in the gut, her arm came out in an arch slicing him in half.  

Whistling impressed as he held out his hand, Jeremy chanted, “*Lam an ajan. (*silver blades).” And as two deadly-looking knives appeared in his hands, Jeremy cut through a demon so fast, Marisol and the other two had to blink to make sure it happened.  

But then they were charging Jeremy and Marisol. Fueled by emotion, the simple-minded demon-possessed humans fought only for blood and flesh. But neither Marisol nor Jeremy were the humans they murdered. Even possessed by demons, the vessels were all still human. 

And they had their limits. 

Marisol could easily find a weak spot,  and then she's trick the demon thinking she’d go one way. But she went the other and hit him in the stomach so hard he coughed blood. As she whirled around him, she whispered, “*Te libero. (*I release you).” And as his body floated into nothingness in the cold night air, Marisol looked at Jeremy having already finished off the other one.  

“Well, that was easier than I thought tonight would go.” Jeremy admitted stroking her head affectionately like an older brother would his kid sister, Marisol grinned when he asked what she wanted to do, “Because now I want a beer and a nice book.”  

Laughing, Marisol linked her arms with him, “And I want a bubble bath with Aurora, if we hurry home we can.” Cheesing, Jeremy led her down the street and both were talking childhoods when she suddenly stopped.  

Jeremy was worried, but Marisol was kicking herself for not checking her surroundings, for not seeing where she was. Because now, here she was on Javier’s block, and what’s worse than that? Seeing Javier with his tongue down some pretty white girl's throat dressed in his black and blue varsity jacket. And with her tight jeans and white heels, she had long blonde extensions and a fifty-dollar manicure.  

With a body of a dancer and a sweet giggle, Marisol felt anger. She didn’t feel jealous because f**k him and his bum ass, but he was so busy kissing some b***h he couldn’t see his own daughter? Clenching on to Jeremy, he immediately seemed to hide her from view and helped her blow right past them.  

She had been tempted to look back, to storm over and ruin what he had going on with whoever she was. But as they went in the house, greeted by his mama and papa so warmly, she couldn’t. Marisol wouldn’t be the stereotypical baby mama who would come in on a rampage bitter and nasty.  

Instead, Marisol resolved in her will that Aurora didn’t need him. That their daughter was better off without her own father making her feel like a mistake or burden. 

She would never feel like that as long as she breathed. So, as they continued to kill a demon or two on the way home, Marisol let every swing be her outlet for her anger.  

Because the second she got home and dropped her sword, she had her daughter in her arms. And she wasn’t going to bring that energy around her. Instead, she ran them a hot bubble bath, tied up her hair, and lit candles.  

Enjoying mommy and baby time with Aurora, they came out all warm and soft hours later. Both sleepy but happy, Marisol slept with Aurora on her chest that night. Her heart beating for the little life that needed her.