Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy)

by Celia Kyle

  Papa Finn continued his search, slow movements taking him down the stairs and… to Momma R’s trash cans?

  “Dammit, Papa Finn.” The wolf wanted me to snarl, but I forced it out of my voice. He was trying to help. “Is there a way to calibrate it a little better?”

  If it couldn’t tell the difference between the Princess of Hell and rotting garbage, we were screwed and the rod was useless.

  “Hold on.” He had that tone, the one all kids know and recognize. Any whining, any impatience a child may experience was silenced by that tone.

  He kicked the can over, spilling the garbage onto the ground, and used the toe of his shoe to nudge things aside. He scanned the empty cereal boxes, empty containers of baby food, a few dirty diapers and a scraped clean pie pan from dinner the previous night.

  Yeah, all I’d eaten for dinner was one of Momma R’s blueberry pies.

  The rod didn’t react to any of it. It remained dormant with every item until… until he got to an empty water bottle. The rod buzzed so hard I could feel it in my teeth, the end practically dancing around.

  “Gimme.” I snatched it from Papa Finn and held it up to the light streaming through the kitchen door. I didn’t recognize the brand, but I figured it was something Momma R found on sale at the grocery store. Just because she was the most powerful witch in the Northern Hemisphere, that didn’t mean she had to waste money when the store brand was just as good.

  “This is it? It’s tainted?” I stared at the few droplets still dancing around in the plastic bottle. “Something that got into it at the bottling plant?”

  I was gonna raze that plant to the ground. Scorched Earth motherfuckers.

  “No,” Papa Finn held out his hands, fingers hovering over the bottle, but not touching the plastic. “This isn’t normal bacteria.” His fingers wiggled as if they dipped into the waves of unseen energy. “It’s cloaked magic; black magic.” He narrowed his eyes. “The kind that only comes from dems.”

  Demons. Hell damned motherfucking, fucking fuck demons. “How the ever loving fuck did dems get tainted water into Orlando?” I waved my arm, gesturing at the city in the distance. “How did no one sense this shit?” How didn’t I sense this shit? “I banished the assholes. If one of them came back to dick with my town…”

  I would burn them to ashes. I would burn everything to ashes.

  “I don’t know.” Papa Finn’s gaze remained locked on the empty bottle. “But I think I’ve sensed this energy before. Today.”

  My mind went back to Sorsha and then Agatha. Others were infected and sick in the city. “Where?”

  “Downtown when I was picking up the supplies I’d need. It wasn’t as focused.” He squinted at the empty container. “And without the dowsing rod, I didn’t get this clear of a reading. But I’m fairly sure this is the same magic. It feels the same.”

  “Where, exactly?” Because I was ready to track down whoever was behind this.

  “The cops were trying to arrest some human.” Papa Finn pulled his gaze from the bottle and focused on me. “He was… rabid. Feral. He attacked some random schmuck, and it took three cops to pull him off. He managed to break free and the last time I saw him, he was running off down the street. I didn’t think it was my business to chase him down and I was too focused on Bry.”

  I didn’t blame Papa Finn for not getting involved. Standard operating procedure was for humans to deal with humans and I deal with everything else. Humans had their laws, and I had mine. Mine were a little more painful and occasionally permanent, but the job got done.

  Papa Finn gave me the address, and I quirked a brow at him. “Hanging around near the Little Red House?”

  He refused to look at me and I decided it was something we’d chat about later. The Little Red House wasn’t strange per se, an adorable bed and breakfast that clung to its historical charm. The owner, however… Well, in a past life, she wore a little red riding hood and it wasn’t a huntsman or a wolf that took out her grandma. Apparently, goody-goody Papa Finn liked him some naughty of the occasionally homicidal kind.

  I had what I needed and I moved to stride around the house, already calling on my wolf to take a quick jog across town, but a familiar cry drew me back inside. I vaulted down the hallway, anxious to get to him. He was exactly where he’d been left, encircled by protective charms left by the elf.

  He flailed, little arms jerking this way and that as if he resisted an invisible attacker.

  “What’s that?” Jezze stepped around me, arm outstretched and finger pointing at one of those chubby arms.

  I carefully knelt at his side, brushing his sweat dampened hair off his forehead while I reached for his left arm. And when I saw what stained his white skin on the underside of his forearm, I nearly brought down a raining storm of fire on the house.

  It bubbled inside me, anxious to get free, to destroy and maim and hurt whoever did this to my son.

  A rune, long forgotten and never recorded, appeared to be burned into his flesh.

  Dark. Evil. Black magic.

  And it came straight from hell. Its presence teased that side of me, the demon that wanted to come out and play with the pretty, pretty picture. It called to my hell-ish nature and…

  Scorched Earth was sounding real fucking good. I just needed to kill something and I didn’t even have any dems on hand to tangle with. I rolled to my feet and carefully made my way outside Momma R’s house. Bry was peaceful again and I wasn’t about to raise the devil and wake him.

  Because really, that’s what I was about to do.

  I didn’t stop until I stood in the center of the driveway, away from the house but still within the low glow cast from the windows.

  “Uncle Luc!” I yelled out to him. “Uncle Luc, what the On High did you do?” I didn’t think it was him toying with my kid or causing an unnatural illness to spread across town, but nothing demonic happened without him knowing about it. Or enjoying the show with a bag of popcorn.

  Maybe it was more, what didn’t he do. Like, what didn’t he stop?

  “Uncle Luc!” Still nothing. “Lucifer Eugene Morningstar!” I glared at the ground, wishing I could look through the dimensions and down into the bowels of Hell itself.

  There was no answer. Of course, his middle name wasn’t Eugene, but it was one I’d given him centuries ago and it’d sorta stuck. It was also an easy way to tell him that I was really fucking pissed or I really needed him. Coincidentally, right now, it was both.

  And bless it, Uncle Luc would respond when I called his name directly. He didn’t always show up, but I’d get a response. A small earthquake, grass dying, dead bird falling from the sky onto my head… something. If he was feeling really frisky, I got a psychic door slammed in my face, sending me stumbling back a step while… he caused an earthquake. Nothing funnier than me falling on my ass, apparently.

  Except… nothing.

  “Something is seriously wrong.” I frowned, staring at the rough gravel.

  “Yeah.” Jezze eased closer. She and Uncle Luc have had an interesting relationship ever since I kicked all the dems out. She thinks he’s the greatest evil uncle ever, but hates him in solidarity. “So, now what?”

  I looked to her, single brow raised. “Watch Bry a little longer?”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  I grinned. “Now, I get dirty.” If Uncle Luc wasn’t coming to me, I’d find my answers another way.

  A quick jog back inside and then I dug through Momma R’s hall closet. I pushed past the winter coats—it’s Florida, but they were cute and on sale—and umbrellas—the more the merrier—and finally reached the pretty bag in the back. Pretty because it held many shiny things, not because the worn leather was actually nice looking.

  A bag didn’t have to be flashy to carry flashy things.

  I unzipped it and pulled my happy-fun-times supplies free. I slipped my sword scabbards into place, the heavy weight of my weapons settling across my shoulders. A belt went around my waist, a couple more b
lades tucked in there along with a gun in the holster. After the zombies last year, I decided some long-range weaponry would be nice.

  A knife in my boot, a couple more in my jacket, and I was ready to go play in the mud.

  Without another word, I strode from the house and back into the darkness, picking my way through the dense forest that surrounded Momma R’s. The river tinkled in the distance, fresh water that passed right through the witch’s lands. That sound brought other memories forward. Ones that pushed last year’s events back into the present.

  Reminders of the last time someone thought it’d be fun to play with dark magic, to attack me, to hurt those I loved. They were dead now. The demon behind Bry’s illness would be, too.

  The transition off of Momma R’s lands triggered the wards. The magic stroked over my skin, sizzling against my flesh. Now I was free to do what needed to be done.

  I crossed the wide expanse of asphalt, the road completely empty, and headed into the far field. That barren stretch of street represented the outside edge of Orlando limits. I didn’t stop until I was dead center in the grassy, weed-consumed expanse—until I stood in the center of a familiar circle of burned ground.

  It was my space, a piece of land I’d claimed long ago. Over the years, the Earth absorbed some of my innate magic and it made casting blessed easier.

  I tugged a dagger from my belt, my own personal runes etched into the edges of the blade. I lifted my right arm, pumped my fist a few times to get the blood flowing and cut deep into my skin. Blood welled, painting my pale skin red, and I coated the spelled metal in the liquid.

  My wound healed almost instantly—go werewolf blood!—but I’d managed enough to do the job.

  I traced the edges of my circle, digging the knife into the ground and making sure it formed an unending barrier between me and the rest of the world.

  Now, desperate times called for desperate measures, so I tugged on Hell a little, dipping into the first circle a tiny bit. My blade glowed, blood sparking a fiery red, and I knelt on the barren ground.

  Then… I drew a happy face. Magic wielders had to get all fancy with their spell work. I didn’t. My veins had a direct connection to all that fire and brimstone down below.

  I pricked my finger, just pushing a droplet from the tip and letting it fall on the nose of my little sketch.

  Then the magic happened. Fire roared into the sky, smoke and flames shooting into the air and painting the clouds an unearthly red. Roars and screams poured from the small circle, the agonies of lost souls voicing their pain.

  Lucifer—drama king.

  “Enough,” I snapped. The howls immediately quieted and turned into annoyed grumbles. Uncle Luc said that if anyone managed to create a portal into Hell, they deserved a little fanfare.

  I stuck my hand through the roiling circle, reaching in and groping around. “Come on,” I mumbled. “Someone’s gotta be hanging around.” My fingers collided with something fleshy and hot and I fisted whatever I’d found, tugging it free from the fires of Hell. “Ha! Got you!”

  A quivering imp dangled from my fist, my hands wrapped around his chubby ankle. Ever since I’d adopted Bryony, I’d found babies adorable and an imp… was basically a red human toddler with wings, tail, and the cutest little horns on its forehead. Oh, and it was evil. There was that.

  They were also the easiest to catch and generally didn’t give up too much of a fight. It was why when I needed something simple, like information, I called on these little guys.

  I dropped the imp and it scrambled away, crouching on the ground while hissing and slashing at the air with its cutesy tiny claws. It was like a Chihuahua attempting to intimidate a Great Dane with its itty-bitty bark.

  But even an imp could be a deadly creature if left unchecked. How many times had I had to banish an imp and clean up its mess when a teeny-bopper pop group decided they wanted to make a deal with the devil and ended up with an imp instead?

  Right now, I wasn’t in the mood. I darted my hand out and grasped the tiny creature by the arm, yanking it close and shifting my grip to its horn. I pulled its head back and pressed my blade to the underside of his chin.

  “I’m really not in the mood.” I pricked his skin and he whined, a hint of my blood seeping into the wound. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll send you back.”

  I wouldn’t even take the time to torture him or anything.

  The imp froze, his eyes following the length of my arm, up my body, and then finally focused on my face. It twitched a split second, eyes widening, and then he… snickered.

  I frowned. “Do you not get what’s going on, little dem?”

  “Oh, yes, mistress.” He sounded all humble and downtrodden, and yet I wasn’t buying it.

  I released him, letting him stumble back a bit, and then he gave me a little mocking bow. I knew mocking and it was totally mocking.

  “Forgive me, mistress. Would Her Highness like me to polish her boots?”

  Still with the mocking.

  I lifted my leg and kicked the little fucker in the head, sending him rolling to the edge of the circle. It flared a bright white for a split second and then the imp yowled in pain. Magic wielders always tried to keep Hell beings contained by fire. I used ice.

  His pain-filled shout was immediately followed by raspy chuckles.

  “What’s so funny, little prick?” I propped my hands on my hips.

  “Nothing, oh, nothing, Highness.” He kept laughing as he pushed to his feet, rubbing his battered head. “I am most honored to be brought into your domain. Oh…” He touched a tiny claw-tipped finger to his lips. “Gee, I’m sorry. We aren’t in your domain, are we? No, no, no, you banned all dems from entering your city.” He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the distant city lights and then released another giggle. “Tell me, mistress, how is that going for you?”

  On one hand, I could cut off his head and send him back to Hell, but then I’d have to start all over again. On the other… I could get information first and then cut off his head and send him back to Hell.

  Even if starting over was a pain, it was very tempting.

  “Listen, fuckhead.” I snatched at a little more hellfire, delving into the second circle and melting the dirt and sand around his feet into a molten pile of liquid glass. Before he recognized the pain my actions caused, I quickly cooled the area, leaving me with one captured imp. “You know something. Don’t you? Who’s messing with my town?”

  The imp fought against his solid cage with a grunt. It didn’t take long for him to give up—evil but impatient—and he was back to groveling.

  “I am but a humble servant of darkness, Your Highness.” More mocking with an edge of sneer. “What could I possibly know that would aid you? Me, a lowly dem.”

  I huffed and stared down at him, trying to decide on the best method of torture. He lived forever, in hell, so it wasn’t like that was much of a threat. If I could tolerate holding a cross, I’d pretend to bless him like that movie. Threaten to send him up to On High instead of back home.

  It’d be funny to see an imp in On High.

  Movement near my happy face drew my attention, pulling my gaze from the imp and over to a rising fire nearby. A hand reached through the hole, rising from the dancing flames, and then a tall, slender figure of dark beauty emerged. The newcomer looked me over with a smile, pearly whites a stark contrast to the evil that pulsed through those veins.

  “Yippee.” I pushed past gritted teeth and changed the grip on my knife. I also slipped another from the sheath in my boot. “Just what I need.”

  “Tsk,” she smirked. “Is that any way to talk to your mother?”

  “Yeah, get lost.” I turned the larger knife in my grip, ten inches of steel just looking for flesh, and then I shook my head and returned it to its sheath. Mom was Satan’s sister. My weapons, forged by my own hands in the depths of hell, wouldn’t do anything to her.

  Not that I’d ever considered sinking a blade between her ribs. Ever.


  No, my childhood wasn’t the greatest.

  “That’s not very nice.” She pouted. “You haven’t been a very good daughter lately. I’ve been sending messages and finally got tired of waiting for you.” Mom clapped her hands. “Are we torturing this little creature? We really should see if there’s a thelac demon nearby. One of them would be much more of a challenge.”

  And I knew which thelac demon my mother had in mind. Edzard, Jezze’s boyfriend. Their relationship had been strained—to say the least—by my banishment, but they still managed to make it work.

  “No, we’re not torturing the imp.”

  She pursed her lips. “What’s the matter, evil of my loins?”

  Ew, loins.

  “I know something’s wrong. I’m your mother, I can tell.”

  “Seriously?” I shook my head. “Like, really? Do you actually care? From what I remember, you have absolutely zero fucks to give about me and you get off on my pain.”

  My mom did the whole offended, clutching-her-pearls thing. “Caith Belinha Morningstar, I never. Just because I enjoy your pain doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

  “I just…” I raised my hands, fingers curling. I wanted to wrap them around her hateful, evil, stupid neck. “You know what? Forget it.”

  I dropped my arms. She wasn’t worth it. I couldn’t expect her to understand. She wasn’t human, but a creature beyond mortal sympathy or understanding. She was, by her very existence, one of the evilest and most diabolic creatures ever to exist.

  And none of that was softened when she dealt with her own daughter. She’d been quick to inflict pain and just as quick to neglect me.

  Parent issues, am I right?

  I turned my back on her and the imp, waving my hand to dismiss the hole to hell. The happy face collapsed in on itself, sucking the imp from the ground and tugging my mother back into the fiery depths, cutting off the curse she threw at me. Sure, she had the power to leave hell whenever she wanted, but the bonus of her coming through my little hole was that I could banish her. If only she’d visit that way more often…