Gates of Demons: A New Adult Paranormal Romance (Keepers of the Grail Book 1)

by Tamar Sloan

  Outside, Reign breaks into a run. Luckily, the location Lizzie sent isn’t far away. As he weaves around irate people telling him to slow down, Reign pushes himself to go faster. He should never have agreed to keep Arielle separate. It’s her mother who’s missing. She has more to lose from this than any of them.

  Plus, when they left her alone, they left her vulnerable. If Reign wasn’t intent on breaking the sound barrier with his sprint, he’d kick himself. Arielle needs to make her own choice as to whether she’s part of this.

  Reign reaches the location several minutes later, breathing hard as he sucks in great lungfuls of air. Deciding oxygen is for chumps, he takes stock of the house he’s now outside of. Large and square, his criminally inclined mind registers it wouldn't be an easy place to break into with its thick brick walls, ornate bars over the windows, and minimal shrubbery to hide in.

  He frowns, suddenly wondering what Arielle would be doing around this area. The quiet street is nowhere near her home or any shops. Nowhere to buy cute boots in sight.

  Trying to get his breathing under control, Reign approaches the front door, wishing Colt’s words didn’t decide to take this moment to whisper through his mind.

  It could be a trap. How do you know you can trust this girl?

  Rapping on the door, Reign notes the curtains are drawn on the windows on either side. There’s no way to tell what he’s walking into. He tells himself to get a grip. The worst trouble Lizzie ever got into was for chewing gum in class. She’s the daughter of the Commissioner, for crap’s sake.

  The door opens swiftly and a hand shoots out to grab Reign by the shirt. He instantly morphs into a flurry of punches and kicks, his fight instinct taking over. Although several of his blows hit flesh, he’s dragged into the house, doubling over when it feels like a sledgehammer just slammed into his gut.

  Although his screaming stomach demands that he crumble, Reign doesn’t stop swinging. But first one fist is trapped, then the other, and his hands are yanked painfully behind him.

  “Hello again, Reign.”

  The smooth voice slices through his adrenaline, making Reign fight even harder. But whoever it is behind him, holds his hands tight, no matter how hard he jerks. “Go to Hell, Kane!”

  The detective chuckles. “Been there, done that. Although it’s not that much different to this existence, to be honest.”

  Panting, Reign sees they’re in a hallway bare of furniture. Belatedly, he realizes he didn’t even tell Colt where he was going. The knowledge that he’s done what he does best—screw up—tastes as bitter as it feels.

  He angles his chin. “Don’t I need a parent or guardian here for this?”

  Kane’s eyes narrow as he takes a predatory step closer. “Tell me what you found in the Sinclair Mansion and I’ll let you go.”

  Reign glares at him. “You really expect me to believe that?”

  Kane nods to the man behind Reign and his arms are jerked painfully upwards, yanking a groan out of him. He arches his back, agony screaming through his arms and down his spine. Reign focuses on locking his knees and staying upright. Damned if he’s going to give Kane the satisfaction of seeing him collapse.

  Reign raises his head. “That’s really not the way to get a guy to talk.”

  To his surprise, Kane steps back, adjusting his cuffs. “You and me are more alike than you realize, Reign.” His gaze flickers to the man behind him as he nods.

  Reign’s arms are jerked higher as he’s shoved forward. Despite the pain, he still struggles as he’s maneuvered down the hall and to a closed door.

  Kane opens it then steps back as Reign is shoved through. “Maybe this will help change your mind.”

  The door slams behind him and Reign’s about to turn around and do his darndest to break it down when he stops. There’s a body crumpled in the corner of the bare room.

  Arielle.

  MAC

  “This will do nicely,” Dumah says coldly as he shoves Mac through the door of the warehouse.

  She stumbles but quickly rights herself. She looks around the gloomy space, instantly seeing that it’s much bigger than she hoped. The only windows are those high atop gun-colored steel walls. A few doors are dotted around, but they’re all closed. It’s like a giant, metal cave.

  “Running will be a waste of energy,” says Dumah from behind her. “I will catch you before you’ve even decided which locked door you’re going to try.”

  Mac spins around, jutting her chin. “With your demon power?”

  Dumah throws back his head and laughs, the cold sound ricocheting around the cavernous walls. “I hail from a much loftier realm. In fact, my orders come straight from Heaven.”

  Dumah’s an angel? Unless he’s lying… Mac clenches her hands, knowing she needs to keep her wits about her. “What orders?”

  “Why, to kill you, of course.”

  Mac takes an involuntary step back. “Look, I was hungry, the pack of gummy bears was there, I made the wrong call. I don’t think I need to die for that.”

  Dumah stalks forward, maintaining the too-close space between them. “Oh, my dear Mackenzie, you have done far more than steal some candy.”

  Mac frowns, her eyes darting around the massive warehouse. There’s not even a milk crate she can throw at this guy. “I think we have a case of mistaken identity. I’ve never hurt anyone.”

  Well, not on purpose. Or only in self-defense.

  Dumah moves before Mac has a chance to blink. He grabs her by the throat and drives her backward until she slams into the wall. She grabs his arm, trying to pull away the clamp around her neck. Except the corded muscles feel like steel, and the more she struggles, the more he tightens his hold.

  Her chest is burning with the need for air and her throat feels like it’s being crushed in a vice before Mac gives up. She falls limp against the wall, her hands slipping away from Dumah’s arm. There’s no point, he’s far stronger than she is.

  Dumah’s lips trip up in his ebony face as his hand relaxes. He leans forward, coming close enough that Mac can see that the smile never reaches his black eyes. “Disappointing,” he hisses. “I would’ve liked a fight. Now I’m obligated to kill you quickly.”

  “How very gracious of you,” Mac sneers past her constricted throat.

  In an explosion of movement, she tries to knee him in the groin only to connect with his thigh. Just because there’s no point fighting, doesn’t mean she isn’t going to. Dumah grunts in pain and a second later, a set of massive white wings erupt out behind him.

  But Mac doesn’t have time to process how something so beautiful could be attached to something so deadly. Dumah roars with fury, his hand once again becoming a vice around her throat.

  “You act tough, but I can feel your fear,” he taunts. “It will be the last thing you remember as your filthy soul is extinguished.”

  Dumah straightens his arm and Mac slides up the wall. She struggles, kicks, scratches at the arm pinning her, but none of it makes a difference. Steadily, inescapably, she rises. She can no longer breathe as her feet leave the floor, dangling uselessly in the air. Her neck feels stretched and crushed all at once.

  Pinpoints of night dance across her vision as Mac feels consciousness slip away. She’s dying, and she has no idea why.

  “Release her, Dumah!”

  The effect is instantaneous. Mac drops to the floor as Dumah spins around.

  “Gabrielle,” he says, venom dripping from her name. “I see one abomination has come to save another.”

  Mac draws in deep lungfuls of air as she clasps her throat. From her crumpled place on the floor, she sees Gabby stride toward them, stopping a few feet away.

  “The child of an angel and human deserves to live as much as this one does,” he says, waving a dismissive arm at Mac.

  Gabby hoists her hands to her hips. “You should’ve stayed in Heaven, Dumah. The last time I saw you, I made sure you were punished for siding with the Grigori. You were languishing in a cell where you b
elong.”

  Dumah laughs, taking a few measured steps to the side. “No cell in the three worlds can keep me captive. Heaven is as corrupt as your mortal realm. There were those who wanted to see me free.” He expands his wings. “Those who know I’m doing what needs to be done.”

  Gabby takes several corresponding steps in the opposite direction, creating a slow moving dance. “And what’s that, Dumah? What twisted, righteous scheme are you planning?”

  Dumah shrugs. “Simply to bring Hell upon Earth.”

  Gabby frowns, her hands clenching by her side as they continue to move in a slow circle. “What have you done?”

  “Research, daughter of Gabriel. I asked the right questions of the right people.” Dumah opens his arms in an expansive, generous gesture. “And learned the name of the first Innocent. It’s only a matter of time before everything you know and love will be plunged into chaos.”

  “Not if I stop you first,” Gabby says, her voice as hard and cold as ice. She leaps, her wings unfurling behind her, and with one massive beat, she soars into the air.

  Dumah vaults up, too, and the chilling dance is played out, several feet above the ground. The two angels circle slowly, taking measure of their opponent. Dumah’s exposed chest glints softly in the gloom of the warehouse, his pearly wings a powerful contrast. Opposite him, Gabby looks smaller and far more fragile, but Mac knows that doesn’t mean a thing. It’s the size of the fight inside that counts.

  Please let it be the size of the fight inside that counts.

  As Mac stands there, head tilted back and breath held, she realizes Dumah was wrong. She’s not scared. She’s terrified.

  She doesn’t understand everything that was just said, but she gets the gist. Dumah wants Hell on Earth.

  And just to add another layer of holy-shit to that, it seems Heaven wants Mac dead.

  30

  Arielle

  “Arielle, wake up.”

  Reign’s voice trickles through the pounding in Arielle’s head. She goes to raise her hand to her temple and the sound of metal clanging makes her wince. What’s more, her hand stops midair, something preventing it from going any higher.

  “Bastards,” Reign growls.

  She opens her eyes to see her hands are cuffed to short chains that are attached to the floor on either side of her. She yanks on them in disbelief. “They most certainly are.”

  He shuffles closer. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  “I’m okay, I think.” She looks up, finding him right beside her, his labyrinth eyes clouded with concern. “How did you find me?”

  Reign studies her for a few more seconds and she almost flushes. She probably looks a mess, and with her hands in chains, it’s not like she can fix her hair or anything. “Lizzie called me,” he huffs. His eyes widen as if he just realized something. “She also rang me when I was at my foster home. The cops turned up not long after.”

  “She’s off my Christmas card list,” Arielle mutters. “I can’t believe I tried to help her.”

  Sitting down cross legged, Reign extends his hands. “Here, let me have a look at those cuffs. I might be able to jig them open.”

  She draws herself into a sitting position and extends her wrists. The chains aren’t even long enough for her to bring them together. Reign frowns as he shuffles to her right hand, leaning over to inspect her shackle.

  She clears her throat, suddenly aware of how close he is. “Where are we?”

  “Some house in the burbs. Lizzie gave me the address so I came looking for you. Kane and his goons nabbed me and here I am.” He looks up, giving her a crooked smile. “Ta da.”

  Her breath evaporates. Lizzie was right, that smile is like heroin.

  And now that Arielle has had even a tiny taste, she wants more.

  “Why?” she asks, working hard to stay focused on the topic at hand—the fact they’ve been kidnapped with who-knows what’s in store for them. “What do they want?”

  Reign’s fingers lightly trail below the metal on her wrist, sending tiny shivers dancing up her arm. “Kane wants to know about the Sinclair Mansion. He said he’d let us go if we tell him everything.”

  She snorts. “What a load of poppycock. Of course he won’t let us go.”

  He pauses, glancing up at her. “Did you just say poppycock?”

  “Yes, I did,” she replies, raising her chin. “So?”

  Laughter flashes in Reign’s eyes, and she can’t tell if it’s at her or with her. “No reason,” he says as he returns his focus to her bonds. “Just checking.”

  “My mom always said I’m an old soul,” she blurts before she can stop herself. She doesn’t need to explain anything to him.

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to need a few more lifetimes to figure things out,” he says, keeping his head down. His hands still. “Sorry I came running like a wounded bull. I should’ve brought Colt and Gabby with me.”

  “Hey, I’m the one who befriended the enemy. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

  Reign glances up, his dark eyebrows low. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were being kind. The world needs more of that.”

  “And you were trying to help someone.” Reign was trying to save Arielle. “You didn’t do anything wrong, either.”

  His frown only intensifies as he ducks his head to focus back on his task. “That’s different.”

  She leans closer. “Poppycock,” she says quietly but clearly.

  His shoulders still, the muscles under his black t-shirt tensing. This close, she can see the way his raven hair brushes his neck, the way he seems to have stopped breathing just like she has. She wills him to look up at her.

  But instead, he pulls back. “Dammit, I can’t get them open.” He glances around the room. “I need something to break one of the links.”

  He paces around the room like a caged lion, stopping at the window. He pushes it open, giving Arielle a brief moment of hope. Maybe he could go get help. Except the frosted glass reveals what’s on the other side. Ornate, wrought iron bars.

  Reign grips them and shakes them. “Dammit,” he growls again. “They’re welded in place.”

  Arielle stares at the door, reality finally sinking in. “We’re trapped.” She’s chained to the floor. “And we have information they want.”

  His hands clench. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

  She nods, awed but also a little intimidated by the fierce intensity vibrating through him. She bites her lip. “And I’ll do everything I can to protect you, Reign.”

  Reign’s eyes widen imperceptibly, even his tight jaw seeming to loosen. She wonders if anyone has ever said those words to him. The thought makes her sad and all the more determined, at the same time.

  Before either of them can say anything, the door is pushed open and two men storm into the room. Reign is standing in front of her before they’ve fully entered. The men seem to expect it, because they converge on Reign like they knew he’d be there. Reign runs at them head down like a human battering ram. He ploughs into one of them, drawing out an oomph.

  “No!” Arielle screams as the second brings his fist down on the back of Reign’s neck.

  He crumples immediately, sprawling on the ground. Reign pushes himself to all fours only to be kicked in the stomach. He groans as he’s propelled onto his side. The first man grabs him by the shirt and slams him against the wall to her right. Although Reign’s face is twisted in pain, he comes up swinging.

  But the men are too fast. Too strong. In a blink, they pin Reign against the wall, one with his arm across his throat, the other immobilizing his hands. Still, Reign fights with the force of a hurricane, twisting his body and flailing his legs.

  “Hello, Arielle.”

  Arielle turns to find Detective Kane in the doorway. He walks toward her and squats down. On the other side of the room, Reign stops struggling. “Stay away from her you Hell spawn!”

  Kane ignores him, his gaze remaining on Arielle. “Would you like to talk? I
’d imagine your bedroom is far more comfortable than this old place. All you need to do is answer a few questions and you’ll be back there in no time,” he practically purrs.

  “Tell him to f—” Reign’s words are cut off as the man with his arm across Reign’s throat pushes in sharply, making Arielle wince.

  She jerks on her chains. “Don’t you think if I knew something, I’d tell you? Leave Reign alone!”

  Kane pushes to his feet, his lips thinning. “Very well. We’ll do it the hard way.”

  He steps around Arielle and she twists, trying to keep him in view. Behind her, Kane grabs her face and jerks it back against his legs. “Keep still and this will be practically painless,” he growls.

  There are more sounds of scuffles from Reign but Arielle can no longer see him. Her neck is stretched tight as Kane keeps it tipped back.

  “What are you doing?” Reign screams. “Get your hands off her!”

  There are more muffled movements followed by a soft groan.

  Fear is spiking through Arielle as she realizes Kane has something in his other hand. “There’s just a little something I’d like Arielle to drink.”

  Keeping her pinned with one hand, Arielle watches in horror as he brings a vial of liquid into her line of vision. She tries to wrench her head away but Kane’s grip is like a vice. Next, she clenches her teeth in an effort to keep her mouth shut, only to have Kane dig his thumb into her jaw. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the pain radiating from that one pressure point.

  “Come on, Arielle,” Kane grunts. “All I need is one little opening.”

  His thumb digs in harder, feeling like it’s going to punch right through her skin. The pain multiplies, streaking up her skull. The muscles of her jaw crumple under the agony and her mouth pops open.

  “Yes,” Kane hisses. He brings the vial to her lips.

  “No!” Reign roars. “Give it to me. I’ll drink it.”

  Kane looks up, a slow smile spreading across his face as his grip on Arielle’s chin instantly relaxes. “I was hoping you’d say that.”