Wrong Side of Hell

by Juliana Stone

  The light shimmered so brightly that Kira had to close her eyes, and even then she felt the burn behind her retinas. “I’m curious as to why such filth is interested in the human?”

  The voice grew louder and Kira stumbled as she moved backward, deeper into the closet. Logan’s tail slapped at her shoulders. She had no choice.

  “Who sent you here? Who protects this human?” The voice was louder now, angry.

  Heat seared her backside as a cloud of intense pressure tugged at her clothes. Kira yelped and almost fell to her knees, but she grabbed onto Logan instead, her fists sinking deep into the fur at his haunches.

  Mist moved ever faster, gray swirls of cool, icy fog that coated both her and Logan in a cloud of energy. For a blessed moment the intensity of the mysterious stranger’s light was gone and they were sucked toward the back of the closet. A roaring filled her ears and the pressure inside her head ramped up big time. It felt as if she were in the middle of a powerful vortex, one that if allowed, would rip her into pieces.

  Kira had never felt so insanely alive and so very, very frightened. It was a weird dichotomy that left her full of adrenaline. The cells in her body felt as if they’d been seared from the inside out, and she clenched her teeth, pulling herself up onto Logan’s back as the pressure behind them built.

  All hell broke loose as Logan snapped his great jaw, taking off the hand of one of the trojans that had managed to get close enough to them. Dark liquid spewed everywhere, and the pain of it as it splashed onto her cheek ripped a scream from her throat.

  It drove the point home. This was real. This was happening.

  And these might be the last seconds of her life.

  Kira’s arms grabbed hold of Logan’s neck as she positioned herself atop him, and she buried her head in his thick fur. He smelled of animal and anger and violence and protection. She closed her eyes and whispered, so softly she knew no one would hear.

  “Just so you know—it was absolutely worth it.”

  The sound and chaos magnified, and Kira closed her eyes as tightly as she could and held on with the last bit of strength that she had. Every part of her screamed in pain, and she cried out, afraid and sad.

  She was dying and there was nothing to do but meet her fate head on. The rush in her ears was near deafening, and it felt as if her head was going to explode.

  Kira forced her eyes open—if she was to meet her end, she would see it coming. But the light was blinding and though she tried, she couldn’t see anything. There was only the touch and feel of the animal she clung to. His warmth seeped into her bones, and for a second the sensation of floating drifted over her bones.

  The pain disappeared. She sighed. And then there was nothing.

  SILENCE SURROUNDED HER. Nothing but white noise in her ears. No screams from down the hall—Maggie-Mae freaking out because it was time for her meds; or Hank, the deaf giant, protesting his food choices. There were no messages over the intercom or the sound of shuffling feet.

  No heavy breathing in her ear, or cold, clammy hands on her skin. There was nothing.

  She liked it that way. Adrift on a sea of ignorance where a blanket of nothing meant the monsters in her head, the ones who populated her dreams, were slayed—however temporary.

  Of course it couldn’t stay this way—not in the world she inhabited. Slowly Kira became aware of a sound, like a plane drifting across a robin-egg blue sky on a hot summer afternoon. It droned a sad lament that was more of a nuisance at first, like a bee buzzing around her head, and then it pressed down on her. Hard.

  She tried to inhale but realized she wasn’t breathing. Had she ever been?

  Her arms flailed and she tried to open her eyes as the pressure in her chest mounted. As terror punched her square in the gut. She felt as if she was underwater. Everything was distorted. Everything hurt.

  Where the hell was she?

  Suddenly her lungs expanded and she inhaled great gulps of air. Her rib cage ached as if bones were broken, and it was cold, so very cold. Kira shuddered as she tried to understand all the sensations that slipped over her body and burrowed beneath her skin.

  Images fell into her brain. A beast. Red eyes. Mergerone. Hands. Fists. Pain. And then him . . . the savior.

  Logan.

  The droning in her ear exploded, and she screamed as the pain inside became too much to bear. Her eyes flew open and she clawed at whatever it was that covered her—a blanket or something of the like. It was harsh and heavy and she kicked her legs as she wrestled with the shit-beige covering.

  Whatever she lay upon moved as she rocked back and forth, and with a groan she shoved aside the covering, only to fall over the edge flat on her face. Nose against cold, hard tile. Every bone in her body ached, and it took a bit for Kira to steady her shaking nerves.

  For several moments she stared down at the puffs of mist that fell from her nose. They reminded her of a cartoon she’d seen as a child. The one with the bull, scraping its hooves against the ground as it readied to charge. She raised her head and winced as the sounds that had been in the background erupted and filled the air around her.

  It sounded like a bloody war was going on and she was caught in the middle of it. Kira counted to three and then pushed herself to her knees. A growl sounded, the proximity of it suggesting whatever it was was close by. Was it Logan?

  She stared down at the scars on her wrists, at the pale skin untouched by the sun for years. She rested back on her haunches and ran her hand through the short hair that barely touched her shoulders. It felt dirty, less than ordinary.

  She was back. And unless this was some cruel illusion, she was alive.

  Carefully Kira got to her feet and pushed the gurney out of her way as she stumbled forward. Overhead, fluorescent lights flickered, casting a surreal shadow over the carnage beyond. Blood, guts, and pieces of the creatures from the gray realm were scattered everywhere. It looked like a bucket of crimson had exploded over the walls and pristine tiles of what she now knew was the morgue at the Institute.

  In the middle of all of it stood a tall man, his face in shadow, yet the dim recesses of his eyes glowed crimson.

  Logan.

  He was naked, his powerful frame bathed in a fine sheen of sweat and blood that emphasized the cut of his abs, the taut belly, and—her eyes lowered—everything else.

  Kira had never seen anything so terrifyingly magnificent.

  Logan nodded toward the mess on the floor. “Two of them made it through the portal.”

  She swallowed, not knowing what to say. Her mind was a mess of images, colors, and thoughts she didn’t understand.

  And God, she was so cold.

  “We have to go. There’s no time.” He stepped into the light and she shivered at the savagery that clung to him. “I managed to close the portal behind us, but their master will be close on our heels. That bastard isn’t governed by the same rules as the rest of us.”

  “I . . .” She shook her head, confused . . . uncertain.

  The red of his eyes faded, a wary look replacing the fierceness of moments before. “I know you’re scared, Kira, but you have to trust me.”

  She glanced at the mess that surrounded her. “That’s a lot to ask. I don’t even know you.”

  “I will keep you safe.” His eyes were intense, his expression fierce. “I swear on all that matters to me. No one will hurt you again.”

  They stared at each other for several moments, and inside Kira, something stirred. Something broke. Melted. She believed him.

  The door crashed open behind Logan and he paused, hands fisted.

  “What the hell?” It was Mergerone. His nasally whine echoed into the sterile air and even with her hellhound close at hand, the fear inside Kira erupted. She whimpered and took a step back.

  Logan’s brow arched and he smiled, a cruel bent to his mouth as he turned.

  The doctor stood frozen in fear and confusion, his pale, pinched features seeming larger than life as he stared at the floor. His whi
te lab coat was pristine, with “Mergerone” sewed into the chest pocket, the scarlet letters in bold print. When he spied Kira he made a sound—half sob, half scream—and tried to grab hold of the door, but he slipped on the blood that spilled over the tiles and went down hard.

  “You’re dead!” The doctor screeched as he rolled on the floor.

  Logan was on him in an instant, his large body pinning the smaller man to the floor as his hands went around the doctor’s neck.

  Mergerone struggled, but it was no use, and his cowardly begging rang out between sobs as he ceased to move. “Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me.”

  Logan bent his head and whispered harshly. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to rip your head off and shove it up your fucking ass.”

  “Oh God! Please, I’ll do anything you ask.”

  “There’s a special place in hell for filth like you.” Logan’s fingers glowed as he dug his right hand deep into the man’s neck. The scent of burning flesh wafted into the air. Mergerone’s scream ended on a yelp as the pressure became too much and he struggled to breathe.

  “I’ve no time to deal with you myself, but make no mistake.” Logan pushed away and stood swiftly. The air around him blurred and for a second the beast shone through. Kira saw it reflected in Mergerone’s wild eyes.

  She loved that he was scared shitless.

  A dark stain appeared between the man’s legs and when Mergerone mouthed “please,” Kira wanted to smash her hand into his face.

  “That’s my mark, you son of a bitch.” Logan spat.

  Kira saw a red and raw crescent-like burn on Mergerone’s neck.

  “Be warned,” Logan continued. “One of my brothers will be back for you, and where you’re going,” he smiled savagely, “there will be no escape.”

  Logan turned and held his hand out toward Kira. She stared at it for several seconds. She knew she was on the precipice of another life-changing moment. Did she run from all of it or trust in Logan?

  “Kira, we have to go.”

  His voice was rough, the timbre intimate, and yet she sensed his confusion as well. It was then that she realized every single moment of her life had led to this point. If she never saw Logan again, he would still walk beside her every second of every day.

  How could he not? She’d lived and breathed his memory.

  Kira took a step forward. She didn’t want the memory. She wanted the real deal.

  Logan moved suddenly, his arms grabbing her close, pulling her up against his chest. He ran from the morgue, his long legs carrying them past the front desk and out into the humid Florida evening. Kira melted into his warmth and her last coherent thought was of the cicadas.

  About how their song had never sounded so sweet.

  And of the man who held her.

  Of how it felt as if he was the home she’d never had.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “SHE’S RESTING COMFORTABLY.”

  Logan glanced up and nodded at Bill. He settled his large frame into the too-small wooden chair as best he could and took a long draw from the cold beer in his hand. Shadows clung to the corner he’d chosen, and though he appeared relaxed, he was, in fact, wound tighter than a tornado about to touch ground.

  He’d met Bill at a large hotel somewhere along the border between Texas and Mexico. The Texan—not the most original of names. Bill had assured Logan the rambling bordello-style place was a safe haven, but still, he was wary.

  Logan’s dark eyes scanned the entire room and he shifted, trying to alleviate the tight muscles that stretched across his shoulders. God, he was tired. He’d driven like a bat out of hell to get to Texas after deciding he couldn’t chance a normal shift. Logan wasn’t sure that Kira’s already weakened body could take another trip through space and time. He’d stolen an SUV—pointed it northeast—and had laughed like hell when he’d realized it belonged to Mergerone.

  A satisfied grin stole over Logan’s face. Mergerone, the slimy fucker, would meet an end worthy of the filthiest of scumbags.

  His thoughts drifted to the woman upstairs. She’d not woken the entire time it had taken them to get to the border and he was more than a little worried. Was there permanent damage?

  “Is Kira going to be all right?” he asked, surprised to realize just how anxious he was to know her status.

  Bill grabbed the seat across from him and grinned, the round jowls of his cheeks jiggling slightly as he settled himself in the wooden chair. “Oh yes. In a few days she’ll be good as new. I’ve seen to it.”

  Logan’s fingers tightened around the beer bottle as he stared at the Seraphim. Bill had at least dialed down the glam factor since his last visit, and was wearing plain denim jeans and a jacket that, while not unfashionable, did not sport pink, shiny lapels.

  A shout drew Logan’s attention and he glanced over at a group of men hanging near the bar. The room was full, though as far as he could tell the only otherworld creatures in the entire place sat at his table.

  Logan took another swig of his beer and then set the empty bottle on the table. He got to his feet. “I’m glad she’s going to be all right.”

  “Better than new, as I’m sure you’ll be glad to know.” Bill grinned up at him, his smile lopsided, his full cheeks flushed red. His eyes shimmered and Logan bristled at the display of power that resided in their depths.

  He took a step back and nodded. “That’s great, but you’ve got me confused with someone who gives a shit.” He sounded like a cold bastard, and the table jiggled slightly as Bill’s eyes narrowed. Good. The little turd was finally getting it. Logan Winters didn’t give a flying fuck about Bill’s agenda. About the fucking League of Guardians. He’d done his part. As for Kira, well, he could admit that he was relieved she’d made it through the shift back and that it appeared she’d be okay. He might even have entertained the idea of Kira and . . . himself? Was he nuts?

  He scowled and cursed. Best to let it rest.

  “I think it’s time for me to leave. I don’t belong topside.” Logan said flatly.

  “You will stay.” Bill rose and even though the top of his head barely reached Logan’s chest, there was no mistaking the power that existed inside his small form. Logan’s empty beer bottle rattled and jerked its way toward the edge until it teetered precariously, less than an inch from falling. “I fear the tide is changing. The peace we’ve enjoyed for so long is about to end.”

  “Seriously, Bill, you sound like a goddamn politician.”

  Bill ignored his sarcastic comment. “An ill wind rides the horizon and the League needs to stand firm.”

  Here it was. Crunch time. Logan decided he’d play along—at least until he was able to dig out the truth.

  He leveled a steady gaze on Bill. “The bastard after Kira is one of your own. He stank to high heaven of the upper realm.” Logan snorted. “No offense.”

  Bill’s eyebrows rose, their thick wiry strands almost comical as the little man stared up at Logan. “You’re sure of this.” It wasn’t a question so much as a statement, and judging by the expression on Bill’s face, it was obvious the little shit wasn’t surprised.

  Logan nodded. “He’s definitely shooting golden glow out of his ass; I just don’t know how much.”

  Bill’s face tightened. “I need you to stay with the girl. I can’t chance her safety with anyone else—”

  “No fucking way.” Logan exploded, his voice carrying loudly and drawing the attention of most of the room. He bent closer. “I told you I was out. The only reason I did this was because of my mother. I held up my end of the bargain and I expect you to do the same.”

  The Seraphim stared up at him for several long moments. Bill finally answered. “I will not reveal your mother’s identity but you cannot leave.”

  Logan turned around. “Watch me.”

  “Kira will perish without you.”

  The words whispered inside his head and Logan froze, his large frame thrumming with anger. What game was this?

&
nbsp; “What the hell does that mean?” Images of Kira sank into his brain. Full of sun and golden skin, intermingled with the battered, dead body he’d first encountered.

  The taste of her was still in his mouth and the feel of her was on his skin. There was a connection there—something he really didn’t want to think about. What was the point? She was human. He was a hellhound. Besides, she’d been marked by both the underworld and the upper realm. Complication was her new middle name.

  Complicated was something Logan Winters wanted to avoid.

  “If she dies all will be lost. You’ve tasted her soul, Logan. You followed her into the gray realm and you brought her back when there was no one else. Can you really leave Kira to the mercy of those who would end her?”

  Logan stepped back, not liking where the conversation was going. The corners of the room were closing in and he tugged at the collar of his jacket. Christ but it was hot.

  “Why the hell can’t you look after her?” he snarled.

  Bill’s mouth thinned. “You know I cannot directly involve myself in the affairs of humans. That is not negotiable. Especially ones that hold the interest of the otherworld. It would risk exposing the very group of people who can help her. I can’t be with Kira all the time and she needs to be guarded 24/7.”

  “I’m a hellhound . . . I don’t do topside and I sure as fuck don’t think that little slip of a human can survive below.”

  “There are ways.”

  “No.”

  “You’re being stubborn.”

  “You’re being a dick. I told you I was out.”

  “You care for her. I see it in your eyes.”

  “I hardly know her.”

  “Her future is linked to yours.”

  “Listen, Askelon,” Bill’s words sunk in and Logan faltered. A few seconds of silence passed and then he said softly, dangerously, “What did you say?”

  Bill ran pudgy fingers across his shiny bald head. He sat down once more and motioned for Logan to do the same.