by Carla Rehse
“Did it work?” I asked because I had to say something.
“You failed!” Nevaeh screamed.
If you’ve never been unlucky enough to get reamed by an angel, let me tell you, it isn’t fun. The skin on her arms bubbled while the bones in her face rippled. I half expected her to rip off her human husk, revealing a venom-dripping lizard monster, but that was the cheesy sci-fi movie lover in me. Instead, she turned and waved her hand. Jack Russo’s casket tipped into the prepared hole, followed by the grave dirt.
“Control yourself!” Sebastian yelled.
Nevaeh spun around in a graceful move that only angels and Olympic-gold-winning figure skaters could do. “She failed! Our mission to protect this Hell Gate has no chance to succeed now. The humans will die. What is there to control?”
He grabbed her arm, and the two disappeared in a soft glowing light. An orange glow of Hellfire popped over the hill. Guess that meant the demon had gone to snitch to Zim about my failure.
My failure.
I scrubbed at the tears streaming down my face. Why couldn’t things ever work out for me? Did I really just kill my daughter, mother, and everyone else in Crossing Shadows? The nasty self-doubt that haunted me since childhood crowed at my failure. Of course I couldn’t harness the Gatekeeper’s power. What had I ever accomplished in life?
The bitter anger that bubbled inside me since leaving home spoke in my defense. How could this be my fault? I hadn’t asked for this and certainly hadn’t trained properly for it. It wasn’t my fault.
Too bad I couldn’t make myself believe that.
I fumbled to my feet and made my way to the golf cart thingy. In the end, all I could do was what I could do. I read that on an affirmation fortune cookie once. It made more sense now.
Angel nuking? Couldn’t do anything about that. But marauding demons? Oh yeah, I knew how to fight them. As to the witch who kidnapped my kid? I had an idea how to find her or him. And when I did, not even Heaven could stop me from administering the ass-kicking that witch so rightly deserved.
Sebastian left the keys in the cart. Nice of him. I started it, made a U-turn that almost tipped me over, then headed to Mama’s house. It took longer to get there than I expected, but sue me already. The cart only had one speed—slow as molasses in January. And I might’ve gotten a little turned around once or four times. I had been gone for twenty-seven years. Plus, it had been a really, really bad day.
When I pulled into Mama’s driveway—technically, I bounced through Preacher Valencia’s backyard and possibly clipped his garden, then zoomed through Mama’s side yard—a shiny, new pickup truck was parked next to Mama’s Bug.
Lawson and a Shifter stepped off the porch, each carrying a big box marked “canned goods.”
“You okay?” Lawson asked. He wore well-worn, black hunter leathers with iron plates attached to his vest. With a black cowboy hat riding low on his forehead and an iron scabbard hanging from his belt, he looked more dangerous than my memories had painted him.
As for his question, I didn’t have an answer to that. “Thanks for helping Mama gather supplies.”
Lawson smiled, showing off his wicked dimple. “No problem. Have you met Chase? He’s on my team.”
Chase bowed his head. “Gatekeeper.”
“You’re a werewolf named Chase?” I grimaced. Commenting on someone’s name was so rude. But as hunt-happy as werewolves tended to be, it sounded more like a description than a moniker.
Chase shrugged, then grinned. “My parents felt it to be more American than my father’s name of Domonkos. They always hoped the Celestial Governing Body would transfer me to America, so I applied when I turned eighteen. Took me three years, but now here I am.”
He didn’t have the hirsutism associated with his species. His thick, black eyebrows complemented his golden eyes and long, dark-brown hair. Nothing that would cause a human to give him a second glance. Unless they were observing the shirtless muscularity he had on full display. Which I … uh, wasn’t. “Your accent sounds Eastern European. Hungarian?” I guessed.
Chase barked out a laugh. “That’s two for two! How did you guess wolf? Most assume bear, especially with the accent.”
“I’m not sure. It just felt right.” How had I known? If this was some weird Gatekeeper aftereffect, I needed to have a conversation with my training angel. Once Nevaeh no longer acted like she planned to blast me into confetti.
“Ev’s always been talented,” Lawson said. From the neutral tone of his voice, I couldn’t be sure if he meant it as a compliment.
“Everly?” Mama called from the porch, dragging a large duffle bag.
I hurried over. “Mama! You’re gonna break something. And why aren’t you already at the shelter?”
Mama straightened slowly, with a hand on her lower back. “Think I already did. Left a rucksack inside.” She ignored the rest of my scolding.
Chase grabbed the bag, while Lawson helped settle Mama into the backseat of the truck. I went inside as Mama never did know how to pack lightly.
The olive-colored rucksack, basically a heavily re-enforced backpack, sat by the grandfather clock. It looked like something left over from the Vietnam War. Or maybe the Korean War. The Marked not in active Celestial Council service tended to enlist in the military, and souvenirs abounded throughout the town. On top of the rucksack sat an ancient leather and metal scabbard. It had been mine once, gifted to me from my grandfather and abandoned when I fled Crossing Shadows.
I exhaled as I drew the iron rapier slowly from the scabbard. Italian crafted in the 1500s, with twisted rings covering the hilt and etched angelic runes still visible on the blade. The Seraph Weapons Master had used angelfire in the forging, and Pope Sixtus V had blessed it with ancient holy water bottled during the First Crusade. It had been in my family for centuries. Men were somewhat shorter back then and I was tall for a woman, so the blade length worked for me.
Holding the gleaming rapier in the sunlight streaming through the window in the door, conflicting emotions roared through me. This sword held the promise of my future while also symbolizing my failure. And … okay, enough with all this nostalgia bullshit. I had baddies to slay and a daughter to rescue.
I took a practice swing, tripped over my feet, hit my head on the wall, and somehow managed to drive the tip into Mama’s hardwood floor. I looked around in chagrin before retrieving the sword. Thank all the Saints the rapier had a never-dull edge blessed into it.
With the rucksack over my shoulder and the scabbard carefully in hand, I climbed into the backseat next to Mama. Chase, now wearing a checkered button-up shirt, hesitated at the passenger door.
“Are you okay with me riding with you?”
Not all Shifters handled transportation well—too much iron surrounding them. It was a little-known fact that a werepanther assisted Leo Baekeland in developing Bakelite, the first synthetic plastic. If weres and vamps had their way, iron would be illegal.
I gave him a sharp nod. “I trust Lawson, so I trust you. But you aren’t planning to go to the shelter?”
Shifters had demon blood inside them. Some even bled black ichor. It didn’t mean all Shifters were evil—lumping every member of a species together was beyond stupid—but it would prevent Chase from passing the demon wards carved throughout the building.
“Nah, I’ve a safe place to hunker down,” Chase said as he jumped into the truck. “Just wanna make sure the boss makes it to his sanctuary. Someone’s gotta watch out for him. Mr. Valencia is ez király!”
Lawson slid behind the wheel. “Someday I’ll get around to downloading an English to Hungarian translation program and you might be in for a world of trouble.”
Chase chuckled. “No. It is all good.”
I shook my head. Sadie would get a kick out of Chase.
Damn it, Sadie. Where are you?
The drive to the shelter, the basement of the Celestial Building, wasn’t far. Once again, we hadn’t made it a state secret, but in a town chockful o
f otherworlders with their supernatural senses, where could simple humans hide a sanctuary?
“You all right?” I asked Mama.
She looked pale, with dark circles under her eyes. The vitality that glowed there last night had vanished. I might not have mastered the ability to bake the perfect soufflé or figured out the intricacies of a fishtail braid, but I sure had the talent to stir up drama around everyone in my life.
Mama frowned. “What happened to my granddaughter? I’m assuming the Seraphs were unable to help locate her?”
I wanted to confess everything, even with the two sets of ears up front, but the words refused to form in my mouth. Sebastian had warned me I wouldn’t be able to spill the bad news. Instead, I said, “The best guess is whoever kidnapped Heather also grabbed Sadie. Though I’ve no idea why the angel guarding her would’ve brought her here. It’s … confusing.” The more I thought about it, the angrier it made me.
“She’s within the town’s boundary? You’ll find her, then. And Heather. The area isn’t that large after all.” Mama gave me an encouraging look.
I blurted out my main worry. “But that’s the thing! How is Heather still missing? It’s been over twelve hours and with help from the otherworlders—it doesn’t make sense.”
Chase turned between the two front seats to look at me. “My cousin and I have run through the entire area and did not find Heather Russo’s scent. Not even old scent trails. A very evil boszorkány must be hiding her.”
“The demons!” I gasped. My heart thudded hard in my chest. What if they had really taken her, no matter Zim’s protestations? Whatever was happening to Sadie was my fault.
Chase shook his head. “I do not think so. My cousin said several of the demons were very angry at not finding Miss Russo. They had planned to ransom her, but even they found no trace.”
“That’s—” Mama stopped and put her hands on her forehead. “Not feeling so great.”
I tried to ask her what was wrong, but she closed her eyes and settled her head back on the seat. Chase turned around. He and Lawson stared out the windows like they were expecting an imminent attack, so it was a short but uncomfortable drive.
We must’ve been one of the last groups to arrive as the tiny parking lot was full. Normally, people would’ve walked to the center, but I doubted anyone took that chance today. Across the street, sitting at one of the bistro tables in front of the bakery, two Elemental Demons watched us.
“Got an audience,” I muttered to Lawson as I followed him to the back of the truck.
He sniffed. “Bad day for them if they try anything.”
“Absolutely!” I said, trying to ignore the fact that I was so out of weapons practice I had little chance of hitting the broadside of a barn. Which might turn out to be a huge problem since demons tended to be rude and not stand around letting you stab them, after all.
“Something’s wrong with Ms. Popa!” Chase called out. He’d been walking her toward the door. Now he had her in his arms, and she looked barely conscious.
“Mama!” I sprinted to her with Lawson at my side.
He took her from Chase’s arms. “Everly, get the door.”
I ran to the building. The door opened as I neared it, and Mayor Maxwell gestured for us to enter.
“Hurry! We’re surrounded.”
The mayor stepped back. He gripped a well-worn battle-ax, and I’d bet money the ancient weapon had recently adorned his office wall.
Standing as close to the building as the Hellblood wards would allow, Chase growled, “I gotcha covered.” Six-inch claws erupted from his hands, and fur spread up his arms to his chest. He had enough control to partially turn? Interesting. No wonder the US Governing Body snatched him up.
Making a stupid decision that bordered on insanity, I ran to the truck to retrieve the box Lawson dropped. I’d only spotted—felt—the two demons across the street and another one lingering in the back alley. Mama packed heavy but not frivolously. If the angel nuking took a while, and literally only God Himself understood angel time, we would need all the provisions we could gather.
“What are you doing?” Lawson yelled.
I shifted the heavy box securely in my arms, praying the sword didn’t slide off the top. “Get Mama to Mrs. Kennedy!” The Apothecarist had better be down in the shelter.
Chase raised an eyebrow as I passed him but didn’t say anything. Fur covered his chest and throat, but he maintained his human face. When I staggered through the door, Lawson, Mama, and the mayor were gone, but inside the white marble hall, the door leading to the basement remained propped open.
I dropped the box to the floor, put the rucksack and scabbard on top of it, then slid it halfway to the basement door. My lower back and left shoulder were vying for first place in the What Hurts Most on Everly award, while both of my knees reminded me that any further running would end up in a humiliating display of face-planting.
Welcome to your forties—the decade when your body turns cantankerous and refuses to obey your commands, no matter how nicely asked.
Giving my joints a gigantic FU, I hobbled back to the truck. I still needed to retrieve the duffle bag and the second box.
The bakery demons were whistling at Chase and yelling, “Look at the little wiener dog! Doing tricks for humans, fur face? We’ve got treats for ya!” They tossed several yellow flowers across the street, which seemed stupid even for demons. Chase ignored their taunts, but I could feel the energy writhing off him.
“What are they throwing at you,” I asked.
“Common rue,” he growled. “The seggfejs are too stupid to realize that repels cats.”
I shook my head. Demons were so weird. The next box felt twenty times heavier than the first one. My pride battled commonsense, not that I had a lot of the latter while having too much of the former.
Be an adult, I groused to myself.
“What are you doing?” Lawson asked again, glaring at me from the door.
Be an adult. Be an adult. “Could I get a hand here?”
Chase chortled, then clapped his paws.
“Ha, ha.” Everyone was a comic. I wrestled the duffle bag to the ground, while waiting for Lawson to reach me.
When he did, he narrowed his eyes and snarled, “Demons.”
I shrugged. “Supplies.”
“And you left your weapon!”
I shrugged again. “Werewolf.”
Chase snickered but quickly stopped when Lawson shot him the stink eye.
Using both hands, I began dragging the bag. “You on lunchbreak or something?”
Lawson balanced the box on his shoulder and followed me, while muttering cusswords that I really didn’t think a preacher’s son should know, much less say. I pulled the bag with all my might, knowing if I slowed it was over. I made it an arm’s length away from the door, when Kix jumped from the roof to the ground in front of me. The stench of sulfur made my eyes water.
“Hey, Kix. How’s tricks?” I asked. Heat flamed around my stomach as if a hot flash were centered just around my abdomen area. Strange.
He was one of the Hellspawn Knights, a couple steps up from the Elementals and one step up from the Crossroads Demons. Knights mainly guarded the boundary and the Warden and such. I never had any issues with Kix. Until now. He’d ditched his 1950s bad boy clothes. Now he wore the demons’ version of hunter garb—patched leather pants and a jacket made from the pustulant and scarred greenish true-skin of demons he’d vanquished.
Kix chuckled. “Always the smart mouth. Won’t help you now.”
Lawson shouted, “Everly!”
Kix threw a stream of bubbling orange light at me. On reflex, I lifted my arm. The heat from my abdomen, invisible and uncomfortable flames, raced through my body.
Everything exploded.
NINE
Mo’ demons, mo’ problems
Black ichor gushed above my head, smacked against the side of the Celestial Building, then slid down in a tidal wave of gurgling ooze. The stench of
burnt blood made my stomach turn, so I took a couple steps back but found no relief. At least my hot flash had passed. Wow, I felt for the janitorial service. There was no way they would ever completely remove the stains from the limestone bricks.
“Gross,” I said, glad that none of the Kix Goo touched me. “What happened to him?”
Lawson gawked at me. “You did.”
“What the hell?”
Chase bowed his head. “Gatekeeper. Védő.”
I stared at the steaming black sludge that coated the sidewalk next to the building, then took a step back. “So … uh, that’s new.” The most understatement of understatements that was ever understated. I did that? Sent a demon to Hell? Whoa. The younger me would’ve crowed about it for years. The middle-aged me felt slightly dirty with a heaping side of nausea.
Clapping made me turn. Zim stood behind Chase. He wore one of his designer outfits, but his tie sat askew, and he had a large tear in the sleeve of his fancy pinstriped sports jacket. “Well done, Gatekeeper. And here we Hellspawn were led to believe your powers had failed to manifest.”
He glanced to his side and began ranting in Demonish to what I really hoped was an invisible minion. It was one thing for the angels to have the cheese slide off their crackers, but crazy demons were a whole other ball of venomous, oozy wax.
Chase, proving his smarts, powerwalked backward until he reached Lawson and me.
My heart pounded harder than at last year’s fight through the Black Friday mall crush. As one of Hell’s Wardens, Zim had more power than all the other demons here combined. Even a fully functional Sebastian would have difficulties against him—and fully functional he wasn’t.
So, what did we have? A young werewolf, a middle-aged Hunter, and a hilariously untrained Gatekeeper who barely managed not to stab herself with her own freaking rapier. We had below-zero chances against Zim.
Lawson moved in front of me. He placed his hand on his sword’s hilt and nodded at Chase. Fat lotta good that would do.