Grave Consequences (Hellgate Guardians Book 2)

by Ivy Asher

  I blink in shock, feeling like the wind was sucked out of my lungs, and I wheeze as I bend at the waist and try to get my bearings.

  “Breathe, Maverick,” Iceman tells me as he places a comforting hand over my back. As though my body responds to his suggestion alone, my lungs immediately cooperate and inflate.

  I gasp and steady myself for a moment and then straighten up, looking around as everything comes into focus. We’re surrounded by flat land, covered in bushy green trees as far as the eye can see. We’ve landed on top of a lone hill—the only higher elevation around—and from our vantage point, we have an unobstructed view all the way out to the horizon.

  I notice gray baleful-looking clouds slowly moving in the distance as if they have nothing better to do than ruin a beautiful day. Anxiety starts to percolate in my stomach. Hopefully, they’re moving away and not toward us. I look away from them, not wanting to track potential impending doom.

  “Uhh, where are we?” I ask, once again focusing on the funny looking trees in front of me.

  Crux steps up next to me, running a hand through his wind-whipped blond hair as he taps his tongue piercings over his bottom lip, lost in thought. “I think we’re in Minnesota.”

  Everyone looks over at him. “Really?” I ask in disbelief. “That’s what you’ve come up with?”

  “Yeah,” he says with conviction. “Definitely Minnesota.”

  I start to laugh, and he turns faux offended eyes on me. “Have you ever been to Minnesota?” he challenges.

  I pause. “I have not,” I confess, and Crux tilts his head, the look on his face cocky. “So then, how would you know?”

  “We are not in fucking Minnesota,” Jerif tells him.

  “I know it’s hard for you not to be a prick,” Crux tells Jerif teasingly, “but I’ve been here before!” he insists. “This is Minnesota! Without a doubt.”

  “When were you in Minnesota?” Echo asks dubiously. “And what the fuck for?”

  “Uh…” Crux’s green eyes suddenly flicker over to me, and a look of guilt crosses over his face.

  “Really?” I laugh. “A demon booty call happened in Minnesota?” I can’t keep the hilarity out of my tone. I don’t know why it’s so funny to me, but it is.

  “Crux?” Iceman calls from behind us.

  “Hold on, Raf, I’m winning an argument,” my surfer demon says dismissively. “Anyway, as I was saying,” he goes on, drawing a hand out toward the landscape. “This is definitely the place.”

  Echo rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to continue to argue, but Jerif intercedes by grabbing Crux’s arm and spinning him to face the opposite direction, just like Iceman was trying to get him to do. “There,” Jerif says with a huff. “Still look like fucking Minnesota to you?”

  Now that we’ve done a one-eighty, I start laughing. Hard. Because this is definitely not Minnefuckinsota.

  A gleaming, almost glass-like castle is smack dab in the middle of the forest. It’s the kind of thing Disney would dream up. Surrounding it are long, white, shiny buildings. It’s like the castle itself is the sun and the long white buildings are the lines of rays extending out from the sun’s center.

  I spot what I think is an obstacle course of some sort in the distance, and the size of it is massive and daunting. Several packed dirt rings are off to the left where trees have obviously been cleared away. I can see people moving around, but when I squint, I realize that there are white wings attached to their backs.

  “Does Minnesota have castles like this?” Echo teases. Crux just narrows his eyes and tries to reach forward and punch him on the shoulder. Before his fist can make contact, Echo’s shadows branch out and shove Crux’s hand away.

  “Fucking cheater,” Crux grumbles. Echo snickers.

  “I know where we are,” Taz admits as his gray-gold eyes scan the landscape. “But I have no clue why,” he adds, his blond brows hiked up in either surprise or awe. “This is Purgatory. And those,” he says, pointing toward the white-winged beings. “are fucking angels.”

  Well, shit.

  “The scythe took us to a castle full of angels?” I ask with shock. I look down at the Hell weapon with a glare. Is this thing trying to get me killed?

  “Not just angels. This is the Legion’s headquarters,” he says, though I have no fucking clue what that means.

  “Alright, and just for curiosity’s sake, how do angels feel about demons?” I ask, rocking back on my heels. “Is this a run for our lives kind of scenario, or are you at secret handshake, followed by pats on the back level of friendship with these guys?”

  “Well…” Tazreel starts, his tone not exactly bolstering confidence.

  He doesn’t get the chance to say another word though, because in less time than it takes to say holy shit, that’s an angel, we suddenly find ourselves surrounded by a fuck ton of them. And as if that weren’t scary enough, they have very shiny swords pointed at our necks.

  We all freeze.

  “What business do Hell Spawn have in these parts?” a stunning angel with ebony skin, dark eyes, and cropped short hair demands. Her eyes fix on Iceman’s horns like they’re personally offending her, and then she moves her flickering gaze over to Jerif and Echo.

  Tazreel looks the least worried by our current situation, and I wonder for a moment if he knows something I don’t about angel swords, because they look perfectly stabby to me. Then again, he is Pride. Maybe he’s just too damn proud to feel worried about any of this. We could all get our heads cut off, and he’d still be arrogant about it.

  He crosses his arms and spreads his legs, giving the head angel an arrogant look as his blond wings lift slightly. “I am Tazreel, Abdicated of Hell, and administrator of Pride. We are here on a Hell-blessed mission that is none of your fucking business,” he concludes, and I bite back a groan.

  Sure, why not piss off the Heavenly Host currently holding murder sticks to our throats? That sounds like a perfectly logical plan. Why didn’t I think of leading with that?

  I throw a glare at Tazreel before stepping in. “I think there’s been some kind of mistake,” I announce, and I feel the weight of all the angelic eyes as they land on me. “We didn’t mean to cause alarm, and we’ll happily fuck off back to where we came from if you’ll just sheathe the weapons.”

  One of the angels scoffs, like my request is ridiculous. My brow furrows as I try to come up with plan C.

  “We demand to see your ranking officer,” Tazreel orders, like he’s some disgruntled customer at a clothing store asking to talk to a supervisor. I roll my eyes at his take us to your leader request, because he is not making our lives any easier. But then my eyes have to widen with surprise, because the swords lift up from our necks, and the angels surrounding us move to form two parallel lines that are clearly prepared to escort us straight to their castle.

  Huh. It worked.

  “This way, demons,” the female says, the word looking like it tastes foul on her tongue.

  She turns and starts marching forward first, not at all worried as she gives us her back. If she’s trying to send us an unspoken message, I’ve received it loud and clear. We’re not a threat to her, because she’s probably completely badass, and there are so many angels around that we would be stupid and suicidal to try and pull anything.

  My eyes slide to Tazreel. “Don’t get us killed,” I hiss under my breath.

  Of course, he just arches an imperious brow before stalking after the dark-skinned angel. I exchange a look with the guys and start following in Taz’s trail.

  The guys must have agreed on some pre-approved formation when it comes to hostile walking environments, because they all move fluidly until they’re carefully placed around me. Iceman takes the front, Echo and Crux are on either side of me, and Jerif watches my back by taking the rear. He’s also probably watching said rear, because I can feel prickles of heat on my ass.

  I walk, tucking my purple hair behind my ears as we head down the gently sloping hill. Springy grass meets our bo
ots as we go, and the angels on either side of us wall us in, marching in sync, giving us just enough space to walk. I watch them from the corner of my eyes, taking in their appearance.

  They all look somewhat similar. They’re wearing the same gleaming silver armor, and their wings are varying shades of white, platinum blond, cream, and some of them freckled with all three. Their skin is all different colors, and I can’t tell about their eyes. But they’re all tall and muscled, both male and female.

  It’s clear how disciplined they are by their movements. They aren’t rigid or on edge, even though they’re escorting demons, one of which is Pride himself. I can just tell that not a single one of them would panic and get blade-happy with the swords strapped to their hips. These angels are seasoned fighters who wouldn’t dare break rank.

  Tazreel called them Legion, and the name sounds important enough to let me know that they’re probably a big fucking deal. We’d be stupid to underestimate them. Which is exactly what worries me. Tazreel definitely underestimates them. I can tell by the way his arms swing and he looks around like he doesn’t have a care in the world and everyone is beneath him.

  Why couldn’t I have gotten stuck with Acedia as a father? It would’ve been less stressful to deal with someone who just wanted to nap all the time and gave no fucks about anything.

  When we get to the bottom of the hill, the angels lead us to the long white buildings. There are uniform doorways about every seven feet or so, perfectly spaced out. Several of the packed dirt rings have angels in them sparring against one another. Even the giant obstacle course has angels on it, training and honing their physical prowess.

  When our group is noticed, more and more angels stop what they’re doing, until all of them have turned to watch us. It’s daunting and intimidating, and silence spreads throughout the entire camp, which is somehow louder than the war cry I see in too many watching eyes.

  My heart pounds behind my bones, and I grip the scythe in my hand, only to notice that it’s gone bladeless again. That’s probably for the best, though. The last thing we need is to give these angels any reason to pounce on us.

  My nerves ratchet up higher and higher with every step. Our circumstances seem to get gloomier as we go. The tense silence is thundering in my pulse. No...wait. I look up at the sky and see that the looming clouds I noticed from the hill seem to be getting closer. The gloominess is their sinister stretch as they try to block Purgatory’s sun, and the thundering I thought was my heartbeat is actual thunder.

  My steps falter, and anxious sweat quickly gathers on my brow and palms.

  “It’s alright,” Echo murmurs, his pitch-black eyes flicking over to look at me.

  On my other side, Crux purposely lets his swinging hand skim against mine in the briefest of touches, trying to comfort me without alerting the angels of our relationship.

  I shoot both he and Echo a grateful, private look, knowing that we’re under major scrutiny. Behind me, I can feel Jerif walk just a little closer, his comforting warmth at my back.

  It helps. A little.

  We’re escorted toward the castle entrance, but just when I get curious about what it will look like inside, we’re directed toward a door at the end of one of the long white buildings instead. It’s like they’re teasing us with the castle’s stunning opulence. It’s a very you can look but not touch move on their part.

  Well, screw them then, the one at Disneyland is probably better anyway.

  The room we’re led into is clean and nice. It’s not hard to figure out that their decorator had a massive hard-on for all things white. The floors are pristine marble, and the couches and chairs appear to be somewhat comfortable looking leather. There are mirrors on the wall, and I quickly question if they’re two-way mirrors and we’re being spied on already. There are white end tables and coffee tables anchoring the sofas and chairs into two seating areas across from each other.

  Taz walks in and chooses a large white chair to park his ass in like he’s the king and has now designated the seat as his throne.

  “Any cherub wine available?” he asks, looking as comfortable as ever.

  The ebony-skinned angel eyes him for a moment. “The Major will be with you shortly,” she snips, and then just like that, our entire escort marches out, the door shutting behind them.

  I listen for a click, assuming they’re going to lock us in here, but one never comes. I round on Tazreel. “What the hell is going on?” I demand. “Did you fuck an angel or something? Why the hell would the scythe bring us here?”

  Tazreel’s face goes utterly offended when I ask about his angel proclivities, and he looks at the guys like he fully expects them to be offended on his behalf too. “I beg your pardon, but I would never,” he defends.

  I have no idea why he’d be so offended about this. In the short time I’ve known the guy, I’ve learned that neither pixies nor flowers are off-limits, so what would be the issue with an angel?

  “Like I said before, the elixir would take us to your mother or someone in your bloodline who can tell us where she is. That’s clearly what happened here. And before you go getting all judgy, the Abdicated were part of Heaven before we made the sacrifice for the greater good and established the realms of consequence—aka Hell. So it’s possible that your mother, who I’m sure is a perfectly respectable demon, has relatives on this side of things.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Turning to my demons. “I thought you guys said that Heaven and Hell got along? That is not the impression I just got. Those white-winged fuckers were staring us down like they were imagining skewering us.”

  “We do get along, in the sense that we’re both working toward the same goal. Both sides want the betterment and growth of all souls so they can claim their divine right if so desired. But keep in mind that both sides have different views on how best to accomplish that,” Iceman explains.

  “That looked like more than issues with a difference in opinion,” I grumble.

  “That’s because they’re all fresh meat,” Jerif adds. “Think about the mortal military, for example. Kids join the service and they’re all gung-ho, convinced that what they’re fighting for is right. They’re filled with pride and sure of their convictions. Now take that same kind and fast forward five years. They’re more seasoned, more lethal, and most importantly, more experienced. They know that not everything is so black and white. They’ve seen some shit. They get that both sides of a battle are just fighting for what they believe. They’re still proud and honorable, but with time, they’re wiser.”

  He nods his head in the direction of the door.

  “Out there are the new recruits, training and getting ready for their first posts. All they see is the light right now, the end goal. They’ll of course look at us like we’re in their way, like our existence somehow taints what their ultimate purpose is. But see what they’re like in a century or two. They’ll get it then. They’ll realize the need for the dark in order to properly see the light,” he finishes, and surprisingly, that makes a ton of sense to me.

  “Cocky little shits if you ask me,” Tazreel observes, and I just laugh.

  “I think that’s a solid case for takes one to know one,” I tell him on a chuckle that earns me a look that says, I am not amused.

  Another rumble of thunder sounds off outside, and the noise shoots a spike of adrenaline through me. I flinch, unable to stop myself. The guys all look over at me, and I can’t stop the pink that suffuses my cheeks.

  “Are you alright?” Iceman asks.

  Distractedly, I look out through the window behind Tazreel and see the sky is getting even darker. My grasp flexes against my scythe. Suddenly, this room doesn’t feel vast and open. It feels like it’s one lightning strike from crashing down around me. Another rumble of thunder makes my shoulders hike up to my ears.

  “We should just go. Don’t you think?” I ask suddenly, fighting the simmering panic that’s pushing up into my chest. “I mean, if they don’t want us here
and my mother probably isn’t here, why just sit around and get glared at?” I ask, my tone rising with each anxious breath I take. I can’t tear my eyes away from the rolling, darkening clouds.

  Iceman follows my worried gaze out the window, but before he can say anything, the door to the room slams open, and I squeak in surprise. My scythe immediately activates, the massive curved blade springing up, and the straight blade on the other end shooting out.

  Immediately, two warrior angels draw their swords and step in front of the handsome middle-aged angel that just stormed in. My demons are by my side in a flash, and everyone in the room tenses.

  Yep. It’s official. This scythe is trying to get me killed.

  “I’m not threatening you,” I quickly say, looking past the fierce looking soldier angels and into the dark green eyes of the winged man they’re protecting. “It just activates on its own,” I offer awkwardly, and I work to keep myself from shaking the scythe and demanding it cooperate and stop trying to get me taken out.

  After a beat, the kelp-green eyed angel nods, and his bodyguards back off. They step aside, and he walks further into the room, radiating confidence and ability. Or maybe it’s his shiny gold armor that’s doing all of that, but either way, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy you’d want to mess with.

  He scans the room, and when his eyes land on Tazreel, his stern face melts, and in its place is recognition and camaraderie. “Taz?” he asks, surprised. “They didn’t tell me it was you here, you old prick!” he announces, and then in three long strides, he and my sperm donor meet in a hug and a whole lot of back patting.

  What the fuck?

  I watch them take a moment to catch up and think about what Jerif said about soldiers getting wiser with time and experience.

  “Louquin, when did you make Major?” Tazreel asks, holding him out at arm’s length and looking him over with pride.

  “Not long. It’s been about a decade now,” Louquin answers with a beaming smile.

  “Well, it was long coming, I’ll tell you that much. Congratulations. As soon as I get home, I’ll send some things to help ring in the good news,” Taz offers, and Louquin looks all kinds of honored and appreciative.