by Jayce Carter
We were close. It was strange, since I couldn’t feel magic, yet there was an odd sensation that ran over my skin. It wasn’t a pull, not something I felt connected to, but rather an awareness. The closer we’d gotten to the Court, to the center of hell, the stronger it became.
Why?
Why any of it? I sighed, drying my hands on my pants when there wasn’t anything else to use.
Whys weren’t all that useful, really, since they hadn’t given me any answers.
Something moved in my peripheral vision, and I turned to catch sight of someone through the back window.
The boy I’d seen earlier. Where he’d had an edge of anxiety before, he was in a full panic, now.
He backed away, hands up, tears running down his dirty cheeks. The window was behind the row of toilets, up high enough to give bathroom goers privacy.
I moved without thinking. It was stupid, yes, but all I could think about was how I’d felt as a kid. I thought about the times I’d had no one looking out for me, the times I’d moved to some new group home or foster family with nothing. The fear on the kid’s face was so familiar that the only thing I could think of was doing something.
The reach wasn’t easy, but I pulled myself through the window, using the toilet as a stepstool, and shimmied out.
I planned to grab the kid, to get him to follow me back into the bathroom. Grant had to be wrong about him because he was just a kid.
I followed where he’d gone, just around the corner, to find him cowering in the shadows.
“Hey there,” I said, using my best ‘I’m a friend’ voice. “Come on, why don’t you come with me? We’ll get you somewhere safe.”
He sniffled, then ran the back of his hand across his nose. “I can’t.”
I crouched down just in front of him. “Yes, you can. My friends look scary, but they’re really not.”
Okay, so they really were scary, but that wasn’t the sort of thing that would reassure the kid, so I kept it to myself.
He lifted his face, and it shifted before my eyes. That fear was gone, disappearing as if it’d never been there at all.
It was in that moment I realized Grant had been right, that I’d been stupid.
I’d left the protection of people who could keep me safe and for what?
I was as bad as every stupid woman in a movie, making dumb choices.
“You are so fucked,” the kid said, the words coming from his young voice and yet tinged in so much blood. “Never should have come out alone.”
I scrambled backward but ran into a solid body.
Please let it be Hunter.
I wasn’t so lucky, though, because when I twisted, it was Jerrod’s face I found. His unnaturally pale skin, his yellow eyes—they weren’t the sort of thing I’d forget.
I went to scream, to try to alert Hunter or the others, but he wrapped his hand around my mouth.
It was so similar to that first night with Hunter, but where Hunter had been saving me, I was pretty sure Jerrod had no such good things in mind.
The curl of his lips into a blood-freezing smile assured me of that.
Chapter Eleven
The frayed edges of the string tied at my throat were the only thing that kept me from panicking. I kept telling myself that the men would come looking for me, that they’d find me because of those strings, because of Hunter’s tracking.
All I had to do was buy time.
But why hadn’t they found me yet?
It didn’t seem like we’d gone far, though the streets all ran together so I wasn’t sure. Hunter had said he’d give me five minutes, and it had been far longer than that.
Jerrod had tugged me through the city, then to a building near the inner edge, I was pretty sure. Few had looked out way, and the only ones who had had scurried away at the first good snarl from Jerrod.
The closer to the center we got, the more deserted and run-down things became, and the place we stopped at was no different.
It looked like it had been a shop at one time, with a large counter like a register, but the glass front had been broken then boarded up.
Jerrod hadn’t bothered to bind me, just tossed me to the ground when we reached the building as if I weren’t a real concern to him.
The kid came, too, though his language had further deteriorated.
Hearing him talk like an angry, vulgar eighty-year-old man was at best disconcerting.
“Come on, you don’t even want a taste of her first?” the kid asked.
“I’m not into mortals. It’s like sleeping with farm animals,” Jerrod snapped. “Besides, Raylor, we don’t have much time.”
“This place is too close to the wardens for anyone to pick up a scent. You worry too much.” Raylor knelt beside me. He caught my chin to force me to look into his eyes, ones that glowed green. “Whores cost a pretty penny, and it’d be a fucking waste to put her down without getting some use of her.”
I shuddered at the threat, swallowing down the sickness churning in my stomach.
Jerrod let out a low growl, one that sounded so much like Hunter’s. “I said no. You were paid for your help already. I suggest you leave before I take away your option to do so.”
Raylor released me, then took off as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It told me who exactly was in charge.
Then again, most beings in hell had given Hunter a very wide berth. It seemed Jerrod had earned a similar level of fear.
“What do you want with me?” I scooted backward until I could lean against the wall. Nothing being able to sneak up on me helped me focus. “Because someone already tried to plant me. Turns out I’m toxic to those things.”
He lifted his eyebrow. “Really? That is unusual. However, no. Planting you for ambrosia would be a waste. I’m not some farmer, mortal.” He paused, then came over to sit in front of me, one of his knees bent, his arm there. “Hunter sure had a tight grip on you, though. I have to wonder why.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Because you saw when we fought. Hunter has always been stronger than me, just not as smart. It wasn’t hard to set the lure, to remove the pass as an option and drive you into town instead. I didn’t really think you’d be dumb enough to fall for Raylor’s trick, figured I’d have to snag you another way, but you managed to prove me wrong.”
He sounded like Grant, scolding me for my stupidity. I’d loved to have argued, but given my current predicament, it felt hollow.
“If he’s that much stronger, is it really smart to screw with me?”
“The secret about us immortals, especially those of us on the higher end of the food chain, is that we don’t hold grudges. Forever is a long time. He’ll be mad for a few centuries, but he’ll get over it.”
The reminder of how long forever was hit me, at how brief my life was in the scope of things. Some people found comfort in that big picture, in the fact that there was so much else going on. Not me—it made me feel even more insignificant than I had before.
Stay on topic. “None of that says why you went through this trouble, though.”
“How much has Hunter told you about what he is?”
“A hellhound. A tracker who catches things that escape from hell, that sends them back.”
Jerrod nodded. “We are one of the few things that can pass into the living realm at will, who can pass the boundary. Do you know what allows us to do so? What makes us more powerful than the other things in hell?”
I figured magic was a bad answer, so I kept quiet.
“The dragon, the beast of smoke and fire, that’s our true form. At the heart of it, however, we carry a spark of the living. When we were created, a drop of mortal blood was added to allow us passage into the living realm. We are of hell, but our strength comes from that tiny drop, that spark. It’s what gives us an edge over things wholly from hell.”
“Still not getting your point.”
He tilted his head, as if waiting for me to get it.
He had t
o be overestimating my intelligence because nothing came to mind.
He blew out a slow breath. “That spark isn’t just blood—it’s the life force of a mortal, and you have one of those.”
“But you can go to the living world. Why not just pick up a mortal there?”
“Because hellhounds are made in hell, but with a spark of life. That means, to us, there isn’t anything more delicious than a mortal who has spent time in hell. It appeals to every side of our being. Nothing better.”
Delicious.
There was no worse word to hear as a descriptor, and it made it clear that while rape was beneath him, eating people wasn’t.
“I’m super gamy. I don’t exercise either, so my fat content is really high. Also, I eat a lot of sweets, so expect a sugar spike and crash,” I rambled. There was no way to pretend the words coming from my lips weren’t random, but I wasn’t sure what else to do or say.
I’d seen Hunter in action, and even if Jerrod wasn’t as powerful, he was far higher up the evolutionary ladder than I was.
“I never understood why Hunter abstains. He used to revel in what he was, but now? Now he pretends he doesn’t even want it anymore, which I knew is a lie. No one ever loses that craving.”
Now?
“Hunter never ate people.”
Jerrod laughed as he rose to his feet. “You see who he wants you to see, who he pretends he is now. Everyone has a past and that past is who they really are. Trust me, Hunter and I tracked and slaughtered plenty of mortals side by side, the unlucky ones who ended up down here. There is nothing quite like that. Killing and consuming humans in the living realm? Boring. When they cross that barrier, though, that’s when they’re good, as if that cooks them, makes them ready. You’ve been here in hell for days, basically marinating. How he’s resisted this long, I have no idea.”
He came forward and leaned in, drawing a slow breath as if savoring a steak fresh off the barbeque.
I kicked him, but he didn’t even budge. Instead, he slid his fingers into my hair and inhaled again, burying his face against my throat. “I wonder if I started, if Hunter would join in. He couldn’t possibly turn down a meal like you, not after I’ve unwrapped you.”
Unwrapped had one hell of a bad connotation then.
He shifted, his hand turning to smoke before his body transformed into that huge beast. He barely fit in the room, his scales dark without any real light to reflect off them. His muzzle was large enough that he could have bitten down on my head in a single bite.
That gaping maw of his opened, teeth sharp and long, breath like fire, before he was slammed backward, regaining his human form in the blink of an eye as his body fell to the ground.
“You failed to invite me to dinner? That’s just rude.”
I turned and scooted away when a new man stood in the small room, someone I hadn’t seen enter. He wore a black suit with pin stripes and a red tie. His hair was black and smoothed backward, with large horns that left his temples and curled back.
He looked like another other citizen but…better, as if hell hadn’t shifted him into a monster but somehow only made him more handsome. His eye were red, like Kase’s when he lost control, but this man showed no lack of control.
Jerrod pushed himself up weakly, and with one look at who was there, dropped to his knees. “I didn’t mean to—”
Again the man flicked his fingers and Jerrod slammed against the wall. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth when he hit the ground.
“I have few rules here, and even fewer for beasts like yourself. My one consistent, however, is to not meddle in my affairs.”
“I didn’t—” Again, his explanation was cut short, this time when the man lifted his hand and Jerrod’s body hovered as if held aloft by some invisible grip. His toes brushed the dirt as he was pulled closer to the man.
“You did. You hoped I wouldn’t notice, believed yourself too smart, but you chose to insert yourself into something you had no business in. I have few rules and even fewer consequences.”
Jerrod’s eyes widened, and he kicked his feet. Nothing could shake whatever held him, though, and the tattoos that wound around his body, just like Hunter’s, pulsed. They shifted, until the black gave way to red, until the smoke marks turned to flames.
Seconds later, he combusted, all that pale skin turning black and charred until ash rained down into a small pile, all that was left of the hellhound.
The man brushed his hands against each other as if to clear the dust despite not having touched Jerrod directly. He turned toward me, and I struggled to my feet beneath his gaze.
The enemy of my enemy had never been my favorite saying, probably because I’d had too many enemies for it to make sense.
“You’re late,” he said, censure in his tone.
“I’m…sorry?”
“No, you’re not. Still, when you failed to show, I had to venture out. You should be appreciative—I don’t do that for many.”
I had a sinking suspicion, but I asked the question anyway. “Who are you?”
He straightened his suit jacket, then the cuffs of his shirt. “Introductions, then? Very well. Welcome to hell, Ms. Harlin. I’m Lucifer.”
Yep. Never should have followed that kid…
* * * *
The palace made the rest of hell look like…well…hell, I guess.
While it kept that creepy tone and the green and red lighting, it was spotless and modern.
I didn’t follow Lucifer so much as he snapped his fingers, and we were suddenly somewhere else. A moment of panic struck me, but there wasn’t much to be done.
I brushed my fingers against the strings at my throat and could only hope they were still able to follow.
“You haven’t told me why you called me here,” I said as I walked beside Lucifer.
His words were careful and polite to an almost uncomfortable point. He folded his hands at the small of his back. “That will come in time.”
In his time, he meant.
“I was here with others,” I said. “They won’t know where I am.”
“They are of no importance to me. I summoned you, not a rag-tag team of misfits.”
“Well, that team of misfits is the only reason I reached here, since someone dropped me off at the boundary.”
“You seem to confound good travel magic. The mix-up was hardly my fault. And them keeping you alive is why I won’t kill them. However, I have learned that when men with designs are involved, plans tend not to go so smoothly.”
“Are you talking about them or yourself?”
He stopped in the center of the hallway and turned toward me, his eyebrow lifted. “Few speak to me that way.”
“I’m new here. I don’t know the rules, yet.” I tried to pair the words with a confident smile I was sure I missed the mark on.
“Perhaps you will prove yourself useful,” he said.
“Useful for what?”
“All in good time, my darling.” He waved his hand toward a door that opened without him touching it. “This room is yours for your stay. There will be guards posted at the doors, but you are safe.”
“Are the guards to keep me here or to keep me safe?”
“Yes.”
I sighed before walking into the room, him on my heels. “Are you going to remove the tracers on me?”
“Not until our business is concluded. It would be foolish to give you a way to escape before then.” He gestured around the room.
A large balcony sat at the other side of the massive space, and it overlooked an open courtyard. In the center of the courtyard towered a tree with an archway in the center. “The bridge,” he said from so close behind me, I jumped.
“It’s a tree, not a bridge. They’re not that similar, you know?”
He shook his head and pointed toward it. “That is the point where this level of the afterlife connects with the others. It is the passageway between levels, and the center of the power here.”
I thought bac
k to what Hunter had said. “I was told souls could move between the realms, to wherever they belonged.”
He nodded. “Wardens, the creatures who fill the dead zone, can pass through that bridge with spirits who do not belong in the area they are in. That can mean moving them to a better or worse level. However, they still use that bridge.”
“If it’s there, why do you need wardens?”
“Because the path between is treacherous and difficult to navigate. Wardens are one of the few who can find their way. Most who venture in without a warden never make it out again.”
I recalled the creature that I had seen the night I had met Hunter, which felt like a lifetime ago. “One showed up in my house…”
He turned to stare down at me, a calculation in his eyes that made me more than a little hesitant. “Wardens are drawn to things that do not belong where they are. You, mortal, seem to consistently be somewhere you do not belong.”
Truer words were never spoken. Still, I kept that to myself and turned to survey the room. It had a sitting area, a large bed, a dining table that sat eight, a bathroom through an open doorway. On the balcony, which didn’t appear to close or have drapes, were more places to sit. It reminded me of some penthouse room in a fancy hotel where diplomats and princes might go to stay.
Then again, what was hell if not some horrible travel destination that always sounded better in theory than person?
“Does the room meet your needs?”
His words were so careful, so polite. It set off alarm bells in my head. This man was, by all accounts, the most powerful being in hell, and yet he spoke to me as if he were an errand boy.
“Tell me what you want,” I said again, his careful demeanor enough to make me risk it. “You drew me here, so clearly you need something. Just come out with it.”
“That will come in time,” he answered. “For now, rest easy knowing I do not wish you dead. I have questions I hope you have answers to, but such things must be approached in the right way. Tonight, we will have a get-together to welcome you. There is clothing in the closet through that doorway, but if you require anything else, simply let the guard at the door know. There is also water on those shelves—I know how much you mortals need your liquids.” He stepped away with a slight bow, something old world and strange.