by Jayce Carter
“You can just summon things?” I asked.
Grant took another drink before he shrugged. “Some things.”
“So why not summon fresh water? Or anything else that is way more useful than sobering up pills?”
“To get things, I have to know exactly where they are, and it doesn’t work across realms. That means I can’t do it between the living and dead worlds.”
“So how did you know where these were?”
“I said I’ve been here before. I have a stash of things here so I can have access to them when I need, including the currency we used to pay with.”
I frowned, thinking back to Troy and Kase’s fight. “You summoned popcorn once. Did you happen to know where it was, or do you have popcorn waiting and ready somewhere?”
“I may have a stash there as well.”
The picture of Grant making popcorn every day, so it was ready in case he needed it, struck me as incredibly funny.
He offered a smile when I couldn’t contain a laugh anymore, when I was struck by how absurd the situation was.
I was in hell because the devil wanted to have a chat with me, and to help me I had a vampire who found my blood gross, a werewolf with serious self-confidence issues, a mage who had a stash of stuff somewhere like an anxious squirrel, and some sort of smoke dragon who gave one hell of an orgasm.
I had not seen my life going like this, and if a fortune teller had tried to give me this reading, I’d have called her a hack and demanded a refund.
“Well, at least everyone is in a good mood.” Hunter pulled a chair over, then sat in it backward.
I caught my breath before trying for another drink of whatever it was Grant had ordered. He was right, though this time it didn’t burn nearly as bad, and I managed to actually swallow it.
“Any luck?” Kase asked.
Hunter nodded, then tossed pieces of twine onto the table. “Rooms for the night. I’d say it’ll be better than sleeping on the ground, but they often rent these things by the hour.”
“Let’s just be glad they don’t have black lights here,” Grant said.
I nodded at the twine. “What’s with the rope? Does the bondage come complimentary? Come for the rooms, stay for the rope play?”
“You telling me you want me to tie you up, shadow-girl?” Hunter picked one up and reached across the table to catch my wrist. He tied it on me, the feeling of his strong fingers against me enough to make me wonder if the rooms might give us a second, spider-free, shot at sex. “These are enchanted to get us into the rooms. Think of it like a keycard, hell-style. We have four rooms, and the sigil on the bead matches the one on the door of the room.”
I twisted the string on my wrist. “There isn’t a bead on mine.”
“That’s because you’re approved for all the rooms.”
The statement sounded nice until math caught up with me and fucked me like it always did. “That means I’m not getting my own room, doesn’t it?”
Hunter didn’t even try to look sorry. “It isn’t nearly safe enough for you to sleep alone, shadow-girl. You’ll bunk down with someone else.”
“And let me guess—you’re offering?”
Hunter offered one hell of a grin. “As much as I’d love to offer you up a spot in my bed, I have other, less pleasant obligations to deal with tonight.”
“Then why did you get a room?”
“Because I want it to look like I’m there.” He answered with such an obviously tone, I gave him a glare. So much for spider-free sex for him.
Nothing was obvious here. I didn’t understand the rules, and it made me realize maybe I’d fit in before better than I’d thought.
“So what happens tomorrow?” Troy asked.
Hunter pulled his gaze from me before he reached over and stole Grant’s drink. “We keep moving inward, toward the Court. After this stop, we’ll sleep on the road until we reach Styx. It’s the biggest city in hell and it surrounds the palace, like a large ring. Between Styx and Lucifer is a dead zone.”
I laughed at the term, which I knew wasn’t that funny, but it seemed whatever they’d gotten for me to drink was stronger than I’d realized.
Hunter kept going. “It isn’t much fun to cross, since its entire point is to keep all the shit stuck here in hell from accessing the palace. I’m hoping Lucifer has the bridge over it for us, since he should be expecting us, but you never know with him.”
“If he doesn’t, can we cross it?” Kase asked.
“Sure, but it won’t be much fun. We’ll want to be properly supplied.” At my look, he sighed. “That means weapons, shadow-girl. Think of the dead zone as a big moat, but it’s not sweet crocodiles in there.”
“Crocodiles aren’t sweet,” I pointed out.
“Compared to what’s in the dead zone? Yeah, they are. You remember that warden in your living room the night I saved you?”
The memory of the darkness swirling came back to me, made me shiver. Yeah, I remembered it.
“Well, that was a glimpse of one, and there’re plenty of those at full power in the dead zone.”
I poured another mouthful of the drink, swallowing it before I had to taste it.
Not that I could taste much of anything anymore.
Suddenly facing all those things in the ravine sounded like a much better idea than it had before.
Kase spoke up, his tone strained. “And the Court? Should we be worried when we get there?”
“You should always be worried where Lucifer is concerned, but once we reach where his people are in control, I doubt we’ll need to look over our shoulders. At least, Ava won’t. The rest of us are disposable, but he wouldn’t drag her here unless he really wanted to talk to her.”
Kase nodded, then sat back. There were edges to his expression, something that hinted he wasn’t entirely okay. Then again, we were in hell headed to visit the devil. Some amount of discomfort was probably expected.
I knew better than to ask him right then. Men didn’t like outing their shortcomings or injuries, and Kase was every bit the sort of alpha male who lived by that.
The drink clouded my head, and before I knew it, I’d finished off the entire cup. When I reached for Troy’s, Hunter snatched it away and moved it out of my reach.
“That will leave a hole in your stomach the size of my fist, so maybe stick to the weak stuff?”
“Weak?” The idea that what I’d guzzled down had been considered the fruity drink of the underworld made me shudder.
Still, the way my brain couldn’t quite hold on to thoughts was rather nice. I teetered in the booth, leaning first against Grant, then against Kase. The men talked, discussed the plan, the upcoming city, the dead zone.
It all bored me. I’d never been a study-hard sort of woman, maybe because the rules had never applied to me. There hadn’t ever been a ‘how to survive seeing ghosts’ textbook, and somehow books titled How to Draw the Perfect Cat Eye hadn’t seemed all that useful to my problems.
So I let them talk, resting my head against Kase’s shoulder when remaining upright on my own seemed like far too much effort.
The noise in the bar swirled together, and the steady collection of talking, the beat of music, the conversation of the men’s rough, deep voices, all lulled me to quiet.
I never would have figured that I’d fall asleep there, in the middle of a crowded bar in hell, but I managed it.
Chapter Five
Normally, after drinking too much, I’d wake hungover but sober. I tended to sleep hard when I drank, because it was one of the few times when my nightmares didn’t come. It meant I’d sleep long enough to wake to nausea and a splitting headache instead of fun drunkenness. This time, however, was different.
The spinning room had me reaching for my pocket, for the pill that Grant had given me. It tasted chalky, like mints, but almost as soon as I chewed it, my head started to clear.
I waited until the room stopped moving, giving it time to wipe away all the fuzziness before I risked sitt
ing up and peering around. My cloak hung on a hook by the door. The room was small and dirty—everything I’d expect at a by-the-hour motel in hell. In the large bed, beside me, Kase had stretched out, his eyes closed.
It reminded me of the night he’d been naked, when he’d been in my bed back home. His lips had moved over my shoulder and even though his skin was cool, his touch had warmed me right up.
Heat stirred inside me, making me want to experience that again. The fact that I’d been angry with him, or how he’d betrayed me, or how he’d acted like my blood was the vampire version of cold, stale coffee didn’t matter all of a sudden, as if even though I was sober, the ambrosia had left that need in its wake. Or maybe it was just good old-fashioned horniness and I was reaching for another explanation.
He lay still in a way entirely unlike any regular sleeping person. When humans slept, we twitched, we breathed, we shifted. Kase didn’t move in the slightest. He wore his slacks and his button-up shirt—his jacket had been lost somewhere along the trip—though neither looked nearly as pristine as they had before. Between all the walking and the fight with Troy—which seemed like a lifetime ago—he was far less put together. His feet were crossed at the ankle, his black socks on and one of his hands rested on his stomach while his other was to the side next to me. Had he fallen asleep like that to touch me?
I shifted, moving slowly so I didn’t wake him. I really wasn’t sure how deeply vampires slept. My knees pressed into the mattress as I studied him.
His face looked younger right then, when it wasn’t pinched with that self-restraint. It made me wonder against just how old he was. When awake, he had an air of control, of caution. There was always a wall I couldn’t get past, like a ward around him that kept everything away.
Which was why it was odd to watch him sleep, to see him so…approachable. He didn’t look like the vampire who had terrified me, the one so many were afraid of.
I reached out and traced my hand over his arm, the skin beneath the shirt hard.
I wasn’t planning on molesting him, but I was drawn to how vulnerable he was. For once, I felt like I could see him, like he wasn’t hiding.
I moved my fingers down over his wrist to touch his hand, to where I could brush his actual skin.
The moment it happened, however, the room spun again.
When the breath rushed from my lungs, I realized it wasn’t the room spinning this time but me.
I found Kase’s face above me, his lips peeled back to expose his fangs, his eyes glowing red.
All those times I’d though he looked scary before were nothing. I’d never seen this face. The idea he was older than Colter didn’t seem so crazy anymore.
If his face wasn’t enough, the hand I’d just touched was wrapped around my throat.
He could have snapped my neck right then, ended me without a second thought. It was reminding just how out-powered I was by these supernaturals. I had started to feel myself, to think I could stand toe-to-toe with them, especially after shoving that shadow from Troy, but in that moment Kase showed me how wrong I was.
His hand kept me from drawing breath—I was really tired of being choked—and even as I clutched at his wrist, I couldn’t make him budge.
Kase didn’t blink, but his hand tightened a hair before loosening. A split second later, he yanked backward and off me.
I rolled, then coughed hard while I fought to fill my lungs again. Suddenly the ash-laden air wasn’t so bad, anymore.
“Ava, are you okay?” Kase asked but didn’t touch me.
My palms pressed into the mattress, my lungs burning until I was able to stop the hacking and slow my breath.
To my left, Kase stared at me, gaze intense, his eyes that same red.
He looked like himself, that flat, expressionless face, except for the eyes. As if he’d realized it, he darted his gaze away and when he turned back, his eyes had returned to normal. “Are you okay?” he repeated.
I rubbed my fingers against my sore throat. “What was that?”
“You shouldn’t wake me that way.”
“I just touched your hand,” I argued. “It wasn’t like I was going for your pants!”
He dropped his gaze to my throat, and I thought I read a moment of regret. “I don’t do well with being…touched.”
The last word came after a loud silence, full of explanations he didn’t give.
It forced me to think backward, to recall the times we’d touched.
Wait, no, that wasn’t quite right. Each time I’d try to touch him, he’d stopped it. He’d restrained me, kept me from having any free contact.
Why hadn’t I realized it? I’d chalked it up to some sort of dominance kink. Hell, I’d even gotten off on it like some game. It lost that magic, however, when I realized something sinister rested beneath in the action.
“Why not?”
He blew out a breath, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”
I pointed at my throat. “Yes, it really sort of does. You don’t get to do this then not talk to me.”
He reached forward, and I couldn’t help my flinch. Sure, I wasn’t exactly afraid of him, but he had just strangled the shit out of me. Even if he hadn’t meant it, it was entirely reasonable that I might be a little jumpy around him.
Even with my reaction, however, he only paused for a second for me to regain my confidence. He slid his fingers against the mark. “It looks like after you had that run-in with the poltergeist.”
“Well, you and she have the same go-to move.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I could have done far worse. I could have snapped your neck.”
I wanted to reach up and touch him, but I kept the desire in check. I recalled when Troy had touched me, after I’d told him about my past, about the man who had abused me, and about how much I didn’t want his hands on me then.
“Do you know much about vampires after they’re turned?”
I shook my head.
He continued to stroke the mark, as though that were how he could distract himself from what he said. I got the sense it wasn’t a story he told often, or perhaps ever. “When newly made, vampires are exceedingly weak. They’re hardly stronger than a human and have far more weaknesses than one. They rely heavily on the vampire who made them.”
I noticed he used they instead of we, probably to distance himself from his story. I let him have that, if it was what it took to get it out.
He pulled his hand from me, moving to cross his legs on the bed and lean forward. It made him look less like the unapproachable and extraordinarily strong vampire I knew, and more like a man who had a very long past, much of which wasn’t good.
Then again, even in a short human life, how much was shit? How much of my life had been just terrible? If I extrapolated that out to however old Kase was, he had to have a lot of horrible memories locked up in that head of his.
“Old vampires are dangerous, cold. The stronger and older they are, the worse they become. My maker was amongst the oldest and strongest, and certainly the most sadistic.”
That last word held a wealth of information. No one called someone sadistic without good reason. It wasn’t the term used when people were jerks, when they were selfish. Sadism was about enjoying the suffering of others, and there was a level of evil there I rarely dealt with.
Still, I didn’t speak, letting Kase get his entire story out.
His shoulders sagged, as if he crumbled. “I have no wish to go into any real detail, but I spent the first few centuries of my life as little more than a plaything for the vampire who made me, for him and whoever he pleased.”
Even without Kase saying it, the reality bled through his words. I had always seen him as untouchable, as larger than life, so to recognize he’d come from nothing, that he’d suffered beneath those so much more powerful than him for centuries made my throat tight. It also explained him a little better—his need for control, his attempts to manipulate people, his aloofness.
He didn’t lift his gaze, didn’t acknowledge my useless platitude. “I have had a very long time to get past it, to move forward. As I became older, stronger, it was easier to pretend it had never happened at all. However, when someone touches me, they put their hands on me, I feel the same spark of disgust I did before, and I react as in on instinct.”
I folded my hands in my lap, trying to make it clear I wouldn’t press his boundaries. “I didn’t realize.”
“Of course not. How could you? I have shared that with no one.”
“No one? In”—I muttered a jumbled string of sounds since I had no idea how old he actually was—“years?”
He let out a humorless laugh. “If you know the worst of my secrets, what does my age matter? I was turned around 1800 BC.”
That shocked me. I’d known he was old, but I’d thought a few hundred years. Maybe a thousand? The math quickly added up to over three thousand years old, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard of a vampire of that age.
Most, when they reached a fraction of that, retreated from the world, found some out-of-the-way place and all but atrophied to nothing. The weight of time passing grew too much for most, which was one reason asking a vampire’s age was such a taboo. It was an unwelcome conversation, a reminder that while they didn’t grow old, their time was rarely unlimited.
“How…” I asked, unable to formulate a question.
He turned his head to look at me, and it reminded me of when he’d been asleep, as if he’d lowered those defenses for a moment and let me see him. “Not many of us make it to my age intact. We are most often killed by those we turn who want more power. I, however, have never made another vampire. Time passed, and no matter how much, I always knew I had something worth being engaged for.”
“What?”
He turned away. “It doesn’t matter. I understand if this is too much, Ava. After what I did, I understand if the danger is too great, or if you simply don’t wish to pursue anything, especially because of…”
“Like I’d hold that against you. My life hasn’t exactly been peaches, and what the vampire who made you did, that wasn’t your fault.”