Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy)

by Celia Kyle

  “But you won’t tell me what to ask.”

  “Not within my purview.”

  I was gonna take his purview and shove it up his ass. The only thing that stopped me was the sympathetic look in his eyes. Or that was my imagination. Beings from Hell didn’t have much in the sympathy department.

  Neither did lawyers.

  I flopped into a nearby seat, the antique chair groaning beneath my rough treatment, and Killian flinched. Yeah, whatever. I ignored that and focused on playing twenty questions with the devil’s advocate. I didn’t see that I had much choice in the matter.

  “We’ll start with Captain Obvious. Who’s behind the dem drug?”

  “Who has the most to gain from its distribution?”

  I leaned forward. “How should I know?”

  He shrugged. I hadn’t asked the right question.

  “Fine,” I sighed and leaned back, picking up the bat once more, balancing it on my fingertip. Some people paced when they had to think. I toyed with weapons. “It’s a dem. Someone from Hell trying to make a move on the tween. Not a weakling from the outer circles, though. They’re pushovers and idiots.” Killian didn’t contradict me, so he had to agree. “To develop something that affected so many and then distribute it under my nose.” I flicked my fingers, making the bat spin on the tip. “Whoever it is has power.”

  Killian didn’t say a word, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something other than unending darkness. I took his silence as confirmation that I was headed in the right direction.

  “Who has enough power to pull this off?” I quirked a brow.

  “That depends,” he mimicked my expression, “on how much power it would take.”

  As soon as this mess was finished, I was gonna shove my bat up his ass.

  “As a note, just because the famous mouse now owns Yoda’s ass doesn’t mean you have to give me your best impression.”

  He smiled, probably taking my frustration as a compliment.

  Demons. Twisted fuckers.

  But he had given me something I could work with. “Who has enough power?” I murmured to myself. “Compile a list of entities with enough power and influence to pull this off and there’s my list of suspects.”

  Killian didn’t say a word, but the look in those dead eyes told me I was at least still heading in the right direction.

  “Thanks.” I pushed to my feet. “I guess.”

  I turned and faced the door, feeling the heavy weight of Killian’s gaze on my back, his dark eyes caressing me, and I suppressed the shiver that skated up my spine. He liked what he saw and I… still didn’t want anyone but Sam.

  I strode from the office, pausing just beside the door, and stared at the painting. An evil version of Starry Night, the swirling paintbrush in shades of red instead of blue. Flames danced over the town and the moon itself was blood red. I tilted my head, staring at the work of art, trying to figure out what made this one different. The signature was right, another variant of my uncle’s name, but the feel…

  I reached out my hand, fingers gliding over the waves of evil that permeated every brushstroke. I glanced over my shoulder, grin in place. “You’ve got a decent collection of my uncle’s artwork.”

  “Thank—“

  “Unfortunately,” I pointed at my mother’s version of Starry Night, “that’s not his.”

  The look on Killian’s expression told me that it was news to him. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one annoyed by our meeting.

  Of course, the joy of frustrating him only lasted until I pulled up in front of Momma R’s house. She’d fixed the gravel driveway, her flowerbed back in perfect condition, and hadn’t yelled at me too much about fucking it up. Though as soon as Bry was better—and he would get better—I was sure I was in for a bitch session.

  Not that I didn’t deserve it.

  I kept my steps soft as I entered the home, unwilling to disturb Bry. I peeked in on him, happy to see that Sorsha’s magic still held and kept him from getting any worse.

  Now I just had to figure out how to make him better. Easy, right?

  I put a pot of coffee on, filling a couple of mugs, and then dragged Jezze to Momma R’s library. The woman was the most knowledgeable tweener when it came to demons and she had to have a list of the biggest, ugliest dems out there.

  “It’s someone who can influence the tween.” I flipped another page, running my finger down the aged paper over Momma R’s flowing script. Jezze sat across from me, curled in a chair and taking notes, her coffee sitting on the arm of her chair. “Imps and other little fuckers can’t get out on their own. They have to be summoned. So we’re looking for someone who can cross the veil on their own, or at least reach through and possess a mortal host. Or just whisper in someone’s ear and give them directions.” Whispering was far easier than crossing the realms on their own. It was a better choice for lesser demons who had trouble crossing the veil on their own, or for those who wanted to conserve their power.

  Once they had a mortal working for them, it was easy to encourage them to learn enough dark magic to open a ritual circle and summon their demon “lord.”

  “Got it,” Jezze set aside her notebook and wiggled forward in her seat. “That’s a big assed list though. Any other way to narrow it down?”

  I twirled my pen, sliding it between my fingers while I stared at the tabletop. “Most of them have certain… styles. Demons are vain. If they do something, they want their own flair added on. This thing with the drugs and the tainted water, that’s pretty specific.” I rolled the demons I knew through my mind. “Prince of Sloth is too lazy. Vanity wouldn’t sit behind the scenes. He’d be obvious. Could be Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, maybe Greed. Maybe Lust, but I think his drug of choice would be an aphrodisiac. This is causing chaos.”

  “That doesn’t include the quiet ones.” Jezze tapped her pencil on her notepad.

  The quiet ones really were the dems to be wary of. They were always the ones that no one heard from until it was time to blow the world up. Some of the older ones hadn’t even been recorded by human history. Many humans thought Hell began and ended with the Bible.

  Idiots. That much evil couldn’t be contained within one book. There were so many lost histories and forgotten times, things that predated human civilization. Primordial evils from beyond time. Uncle Luc was still the baddest of the bad, but there were… others.

  Human news reports were finally coming in, the authorities catching on that shit was going down. Thankfully the station did some of our work for us and displayed a list of incidents around the city. We managed to scratch a few names off the list, but it still felt like we were spinning our wheels and getting nowhere. If it was one of these dems pulling the strings, he was going to meet my blades.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t just go ripping all of their heads off.

  Then again, Killian hadn’t said I couldn’t and Orlando was still my town so—

  Glass shattered, panes breaking into thousands of pieces and raining down in the room. I jumped from my seat, chair clattering to the ground, and raced for the door. I bent low, snatching my swords while I raced toward the front door. More thumps. More glass.

  “Nothing’s getting in past Mom’s wards.” Jezze tried to sound unaffected, but there was tension in her words.

  “Maybe.” I lifted the straps and slipped them over my head, settling my sheathed blades on my back. “But I’m not hiding in here, and whoever it is might have some answers for us.”

  “You sure you’re not just tired of studying and itching for a fight?”

  I grinned and reached back, tugging one gleaming sword free. “They brought the fight to us.”

  “Caith…”

  I shrugged. “Sue me.”

  I yanked the door open and rushed outside, already calling on the flames of Hell and keeping them at the ready. My wolf rushed forward as well, aching for a fight. I was truly my fathers’ daughter, desperate to watch the ground become soaked with blood.

  A bo
ttle flew through the air and toward me, a flaming piece of cloth dangling from the neck. I brought my right arm up and slashed it mid-air, shattering the bottle before it could reach me. Some of the liquor inside splashed over me, setting my shirt on fire, but I wasn’t worried about being burned. Lucifer’s niece could stand the heat of some bullshit tweener Molotov cocktail. My shirt though… it was not faring as well. I patted at the singed edges, smacking out the fire and doing my best to save the fabric. Man, I really loved that He-Man and She-Ra shirt, too.

  “Mother fuckers.” I lifted my attention and sought out the attackers. A dozen pairs of red glowing eyes stared me down.

  “Dems,” I hissed, my anger bubbling beneath my flesh and I was surprised it didn’t melt off my bones.

  I rushed forward, slashing my blade at the nearest dem, arm raised and muscles flexed. The wolf was ready to pounce and tear into this one.

  He reached up and grabbed my wrist, awkwardly blocking my swing. I snarled, baring my elongated fangs, and rammed my head forward. The crunch I heard was satisfying, the way he fell to the ground even more so.

  I flipped my grip, fisting the handle, and brought it up, ready to drive it down into the asshole’s chest. Right through the bastard’s heart and send him back to where he’d come from.

  Uncle Luc wouldn’t come and claim his dems? I’d ship ‘em home myself.

  The demon screamed, a high-pitched screech that rattled my teeth. He held up his arms protectively as if his puny arms could protect his human…

  Human. Pink hued skin that was flush with life.

  I changed my target, aiming to his right and stabbing my blade into the dirt instead. Since I didn’t get to kill him, I knocked him unconscious. That was slightly satisfying.

  Two more rushed at me at the same time, tackling me to the ground. I struggled to push them off, trying to balance freedom and murder. My wolf snarled and begged to be unleashed and my mouth watered with the need to bite and taste. All I had to do was shift, show these fuckers my claws, and I’d make short work of them. I could tear them limb from limb, and bathe in their blood. The darker parts wanted me to do that. It pushed and prodded me to embrace those strings of evil. There would be nothing more liberating than unleashing my wolf on them.

  But I looked in their eyes and found the same glazed look I’d seen in those affected by the demon drug. The red was there, but so was that sense of wrongness. Someone had dosed these people, sending them into a homicidal rage. I couldn’t kill them—unfortunately. They were innocents, and I wouldn’t have their blood on my hands.

  The wolf whined. My demon complained. That desperation for violence from my warrior father struggled to bust out of its chains.

  I promised those parts of me that I would bathe in the blood of whoever had sent them here. Bathe. Fill a big old Jacuzzi tub and snuggle in with a good book.

  “Don’t kill them!” My voice was garbled by the wolf. I pushed one of the men off me and then clocked the other in the side of the head with my fist. “They’re juiced!”

  “Great,” Jezze whined. “No snack time for the gators.”

  Another pounced, trying that weird superman punch, flying through the air thing. Cool in mixed martial arts, not so cool in real life. I backhanded him, sending him flying sideways and rolling across the ground.

  “When we find their boss.” I had to throw the witch a bone. We’d just drain the guy before we fed her pets.

  Jezze laughed and then tossed a green bolt of magic at one of the men as he rushed her. It knocked him off his feet, sending him sliding across the gravel. By the time he stopped, scratches and scrapes marred his skin, blood staining the pale rocks.

  At least she didn’t vaporize him.

  Another couple joined forces and ran forward while I still grappled with another one. Dammit, too many random drugged out assholes. I kicked one in the gut before he could lay a hand on me and then got another’s neck in a headlock. I used my free hand to trade blows with another. Did another show up? What the fuck?

  These assholes were strong—for humans, anyway—and they were giving me a tough time. Holding off on doing anything lethal was really harshing my buzz. No blades, no claws, no hellfire.

  I wasn’t sure how many were left, but I managed to knock another out—was that number three? Or four?—while Jezze sent another flying across the lawn with another spell. But I was getting pounded hard in a not fun way and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could brawl without resorting to lethal measures. Any bruises they gave me healed instantly, but that didn’t change the fact that I needed to add some more cardio to my workout routine. These guys were almost as strong as demons, and unlike me, they weren’t pulling their punches.

  A battle cry sounded from my right, and a dark figure appeared, pummeling one of the drugged humans with his fists. I caught a quick glimpse of black leather, dark hair, and red eyes before I was distracted by a baseball bat aimed at my head.

  I grabbed the bat mid-swing and yanked, snatching it from the man’s hand. I shook my head. “Shouldn’t have gone with the wood.” I snapped the bat over my knee. The wood splintered and shattered, leaving me with two hunks. I clobbered his ears, knocking him to the ground. “Night, night.”

  I looked to my right at another brawl taking place. “Sam!” I snarled at him, hating how much I liked watching him. “I thought I told you to get fucking lost!”

  Sam glanced at me, wicked smile on his lips, between pounding his fist into a man’s face. “You looked like you needed help.”

  That was my Sam—my mate. Always showing up when he thought I was in danger.

  Two more rushed me. I dropped one with a roundhouse kick and then blocked the other’s fists as he came at me swinging. “When I fucking need help,” I jabbed a fist into a man’s throat. “I’ll fucking tell you I need help.”

  I hated being treated like a damsel in fucking distress, but his timing couldn’t have been better. So, I let it slide. Just this one time.

  I’d still give him shit for it so he didn’t think I was going soft.

  Sam dropped an assailant to the ground and raised his fists as another rushed him, swinging a piece of Momma R’s fence as a club. I saw the hesitation in Sam’s stance, in his glowing red eyes. He could have killed one of these men with his bare hands, same as me. He wanted to. Fuck, I wanted to. He reached for the man’s throat, squeezing tightly, and for just a moment, I saw the blood lust in his blazing eyes. The desire to kill consumed him, his dark urges surging through his veins. He had a direct connection to the most unholy parts of Hell, and it fed him nothing but hate and rage.

  Thing about angels—fallen or still On High—was that they didn’t rock the same kind of free will humans were given. They had rules and restrictions, some of them literally impossible to break. Others? Slap on the wrist and they’re sent on their way.

  Except sex and violence. Do it and you’re done. Period. Full stop. An angel is cut off from the divine spirit, no sense of right or wrong, and an empty space in their souls that Hell can’t wait to occupy.

  That was Sam now.

  He managed to get it under control, to resist that pull and remove his hands from the man’s neck. But there was that moment when I was certain he was going to strangle the man to death, snuff out a human life and smile when all was said and done. It took immense effort to step away from that alluring abyss without On High’s guiding light to show him the way.

  Instead of killing the human, Sam pounded him in the face until the poor guy fell onto the lawn, limp and unmoving. The guy suffered from more than one broken bone, but I saw his chest rise and fall. So, at least he was alive.

  Sam stood over the last man to fall, clenching and unclenching his fists. His breath came in harsh, heaving pants, and I could see the rage and bloodlust simmering in his eyes.

  I wanted to go to him. I wanted to take him in my arms (and other pink places). Hold him tightly and comfort him, tell him everything would be all right.

  But I coul
dn’t.

  And it wasn’t because my own feelings were tied in knots. This crawl to redemption and struggle out of the pit he’d plummeted into last year needed to be done alone. He had to search out the strength to control the dark urges and restrain himself from the rage that threatened to swallow him whole.

  It could be done. After all, I’d managed not to murder anyone.

  Today.

  Though I was giving it some serious thought, and once I found the demon that controlled these humans… That person was dead.

  He closed his eyes, breathing gradually returning to normal. When he opened them, that red glow had dimmed, just a little. No longer a raging inferno, but a simmering heat, waiting to be stoked to violence once more.

  “You okay?” I retrieved my dropped sword and wiped it on the shirt of one of the unconscious men before slipping it into the sheathe across my back.

  He grunted. Falling had changed him. I wasn’t sure why I thought it wouldn’t. “You?”

  I glanced down at my body and tested my muscles. Bruises, but nothing my wolf couldn’t handle. “I’ll be fine.”

  We dragged the unconscious men into the back shed and tied them up, securing them so they couldn’t leave. Jezze whipped up a spell so they wouldn’t bake to death in the Florida heat while they slept off the effects of the drug. I was really getting tired of hauling humans around.

  Really.

  The witch quietly slipped away, heading back into the house though she shot me a significant look before retreating. She also did the wiggling eyebrow thing.

  I stared at the house, thinking about what it held. My total life. My future. I turned my attention to Sam. Was he part of that future. I sighed. The man had technically saved my ass—sort of—and hadn’t killed anyone even when the evil rode him.

  “You want to come in?” I tipped my head toward the house.

  He stared at the home for a long moment, clenching his jaw, and then turned that hard look on me, considering. Finally, he nodded.