by Celia Kyle
As soon as there was a small lull in the swarm, I pulled out my phone and called for help. I was good, but trying to keep the entire tween population in check all at once? I wasn’t that good.
I called the dads first, the strongest of the strong, and I knew they’d never succumbed to the drug. Between the five men, someone had to be able to help.
Papa Al responded first, the local pack following their High Alpha no matter the command. It paid to have a badass werewolf for a daddy. The wolves delved into the fray, avoiding the unending gates opening and closing throughout the forest. They herded the tweens away, wolves rushing at them, howling and nipping their legs. A little pain and the deep-seeded fear of a hostile predator managed to snap a lot of them out of it. They managed to keep a few larger groups from being snatched while Sam, Jezze, and I handled any stragglers.
Sometime later, while exhaustion filled every single person, the circles began closing. First one, and then another, and then another, like a ripple effect through the trees. Whoever—or whatever—had been opening them surely couldn’t keep it up forever. And I was willing to bet that they’d noticed our interference. They probably decided to cut the circles off and save energy when no more tweens made it through. Unfortunately, the culprit didn’t make an appearance.
When the tide of stoned tweens finally stopped, I tugged my phone out once more, ready to get some fucking answers from Killian-mother-fucking-Howe. I was just… done.
Of course, the dickhole sent me to voicemail. “Hey, Yoda!” I snarled. “Where are you when I need you? We’re literally facing Hell on Earth here. Call me the fuck back.”
And if he didn’t… I was to the point where I was ready to go scorched Earth on everything but Momma R’s house, my friends, and my son.
Fuck the world.
I hung up with Killian and then faced the others, Sam coming to my side while Papa Al and Jezze stood opposite us. And none of us had any ideas about what was going on. We discussed our options, but when it came down to it… we didn’t have many.
Okay, we had none.
Papa Al stepped close and gripped the back of my neck, a sire comforting his pup. “It’ll be all right. I’ll keep the pack on patrol. There are enough of us that we can keep an eye on the borders. If we see any portals or demonic activity, I’ll call you.”
“Thanks, Papa,” I whispered and really did take comfort in the squeeze. It reminded me of the first time I’d gotten into trouble as a wolf, him hauling me out of a fire I’d actually started with my hellfire. I complained about him interfering, but he really was there when I needed him—even if it was to save me from myself.
Papa Al organized the pack and we headed back into Orlando frustrated. And now I had zero fucks to give about anything.
18
The next day I featured a BOGO sale at the bar. Buy any one drink, get a free healing potion. They could get their drink on and get better at the same time.
Okay, technically, we were giving the potion to anyone who came asking, but there was nothing wrong with trying to make a buck. Just because I was trying to save the city from Hell didn’t mean I couldn’t make a little cash.
Because, hello, Satan’s niece up in here.
“You’re sure there’s no unexpected side effects this time?” I eyed Jezze’s cauldron, the liquid bubbling while it hung over a wood fire in the center of the bar’s back room. Her “no smoke” smell was a handy thing to have around, like when a witch had to brew potions in the back storeroom of a bar. She was brewing gallons upon gallons of her revamped recipe for the anti-demon-drug. She and Momma R had perfected the recipe last night after we got back from stopping all the tweens from crossing over and shedding this mortal coil.
I was still unwilling to test it on Bry just yet. After the fiasco we had last time? Yeah. Especially since I was pretty sure his infection was somehow different from all the others. The mark on his arm had to be some kind of demonic connection to a Hellborne power, interfering with our ability to heal him. As for everyone else, we offered it to all the tweens we could find. I also told everyone to bring their friends, families, and anyone else who needed curing.
Berg was handling the phones, calling every true witch and mystical healer in town. He had Jezze’s recipe written in his jagged scrawl and he read it off to each healer step by step. Once all of the healers had the recipe, they could begin delivering it to others around the city.
I wanted everyone cured.
Jezze leaned over the cauldron, stirring the ingredients. “Everything looks good so far.” She switched directions—apparently she had to stir two turns counterclockwise and one clockwise. I didn’t ask. She lifted the ladle from the pot and raised a spoonful to her lips for a taste. She hummed tilting her head from side to side while she pondered the potion. “Needs more Robitussin.”
She opened a couple more bottles of the grape-flavored cough syrup and added it to the mixture of herbs, reagents, powdered yak bone, and a bunch of other dried dead things I preferred not to think about.
“Here’s hoping.” I grabbed a nearby ladle and filled a few more bottles, pressing the cork stoppers into place before transferring them to a tray. I brought them out front and snared a stack of shot glasses. Each customer got one filled glass, no more. We didn’t want anyone OD’ing. Drinking too much of a witch’s brew had… unpredictable side effects. We’d had enough surprises lately and no one in my gang wanted more.
I kept an eye on the tweens who swallowed the potion, and I recognized a few faces from the day before. People I’d been forced to beat up to keep from crossing planes. I gave those folks a round of drinks on the house. Just because I’m a hell-bound bitch doesn’t mean I can’t feel a little guilt here and there. It’s my pixie papa’s fault.
Everyone seemed to be doing well, eyes clearing. They become more coherent and showed no signs of violence, hallucinations, or the urge to commit suicide by jumping through a gateway to another dimension. I poured my shots through the day, allowing myself to feel a tiny touch of optimism for the first time in a week.
That was about the time Sam strolled into the bar. I smiled at him, a bit warm at his presence. He’d been having that effect on me lately, and I was starting not to mind so much. Not that I’d admit that to his face.
He stepped up to the bar and I poured his drink—bourbon, two fingers, two cubes—only have him nudge it aside and lean forward, elbows on the bar. “I need your help.”
“Naturally.” I picked up the glass and tossed it back. As the last drop passed my lips, I blew a flicker of hellfire into the lowball, setting the remaining alcohol aflame amid cheers from the customers. I smiled widely, letting my hint of happiness shine through. I slammed the glass on the bar and returned my attention to my mate. “You know, it’d be nice if you stopped by just because you wanted to see me.”
He immediately got that wounded puppy look that said I’d stolen his favorite toy. Then I imagined Sam on all fours, naked with the exception of puppy ears and a leather tail and… I cracked up laughing, cackling.
He frowned at me and I swallowed my next laugh, only for it to turn into a snort. Snorts were not pretty.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Another snort. Really not pretty. “It’s just… You should see the look on your face.” I reached out, unable to keep my hands to myself. I squeezed his arm, savoring the feel of his strength beneath my palm. “I’m fucking with you, baby.”
“Aaah.” He smirked, and I coulda swore I noticed a hint of the old Sam in his eyes. “Well, when you’re finished messing with my head, I could use your help at the police station. I’ve dealt with most of the tainted humans in the city, but there are some in holding and I can’t get access to them.”
“Sounds like fun.” I winked—what was with all this happiness?—and handed the bottles of potion to Berg. “One shot per person and check with Jezze before giving any to kids. We’re still not sure of the effects.”
“Got it.” Berg took over serving both drinks and potions,
and I headed out with Sam to the police station.
Sam drove and I didn’t ask where he got the car. Last time he’d had one, it’d been “borrowed.” I wasn’t sure how On High felt about “borrowing.”
A comfortable silence enveloped the car, leaving me nearly relaxed in Sam’s presence. My mind was full of things I wanted to say, but none of it seemed appropriate. It just wasn’t the right time. I mean, I could ask him how he felt about our relationship or how he felt about me… But delving into that emotional landmine while we were on our way to the police station to cure a bunch of humans of a demonic drug addiction didn’t seem like a good idea.
Personal drama llama would have to wait.
Though there were some things that could be expressed without words. Like when Sam reached across the console between us and put his hand over mine. I smiled and squeezed his hand. It wasn’t much, just a touch, but it was a gesture that meant a lot to me and my wolf.
We got to the station and headed inside, striding into a mass of disorder and chaos. The officers were busy as Hell (pun intended), and it was clear they had more people than they knew what to do with. We pushed our way through the crowd while I hunted for someone in charge. There were only a few cops on the force who knew anything about tweens or the conflicts between On High and Hell. But there was one I’d worked with in the past, and before long, I caught sight of him across the room. He was a decent guy… for a human.
I cupped my hands on either side of my mouth. “Yo!” I called out. “Finklestein!”
Patrick Finklestein lifted his attention, a mixture of concern and relief crossing his features. He pushed his way through the crowd and led us into a private office where we could talk.
“What the fuck’s going on, Caith?” Good guy, but an idiot. Sam stepped forward, growling like a beast, and I stepped between my mate and the idiot human. Patrick was at least smart enough to soften his tone a little. The mayor’s been up my ass about this shit. I don’t know what to do. It’s not like I can talk to anyone about what’s really going on here.”
“We’ve got a way to cure them.” I leaned back against my mate, giving him my weight and grounding him with my body. “It’s a bit complicated but let’s just say Sam has some magic that can cleanse the drug right out of their systems.”
Patrick looked Sam over and then gave him a hesitant nod. “I’ll talk to the captain. Tell him… something. I don’t know. But if you can get some sense into their heads, we can at least release some of these people.”
“Some?”
Patrick shrugged. “Some of them are going to have to come up on charges, no matter what. There was practically a riot last night. A bunch of these folks were in one of those clinics, and they all rushed out together. I don’t know where they were headed, but it was a mess. They attacked anyone who tried to stop them and there was a ton of property damage.”
I frowned and rubbed my chin. “We had something similar happen with the tweens last night. Were there any ritual circles?” He frowned in confusion. “Big flaming pentagrams that swallowed people whole?”
He shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Not that I saw. We’ve come across some pagan shit in the houses we’ve raided, but if there was any real magic, it was over before we got there.”
I nodded, tucking the event in the back of my mind, wondering how the humans connected to the tweens. “All right. We’ll help whoever we can. You just get us access.”
It took some cajoling, but Patrick managed to convince his captain that we were from the clinic and we’d come with a cure.
Side note: People from clinics rarely dress in black leather pants, combat boots and ripped t-shirts. Humans wanted to know how they’d managed to fuck up so much in the world? That right there.
The affected humans were led into the station’s exam room, and Sam worked his divine mojo on them one at a time. The ones who’d merely been delusion, confused, and stoned were released as soon as they were cleansed. The most violent ones who wouldn’t be released no matter what were people Sam couldn’t cleanse anyway. By the time we were done, all of the criminals could fit in the holding cells once more and no longer crowded the lobby.
It was getting late by that time, and when we got back to the bar, Jezze was up front serving drinks.
“All finished with the double, double, toil and trouble?” I slowly approached the bar, tiredness closing in on me.
“Yup, I’ve got a few extra bottles of the brew in the back.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “But we haven’t had anyone coming in asking for it in over an hour.”
“We’ll have to work on spreading the word tomorrow.” I rounded the bar and headed to the register, popping it open and grabbing the cash. It felt good to have some money coming in. “I doubt every tween in Orlando came by, but we need to make sure we get the cure to all of them.”
Jezze stepped closer and lowered her voice. “I’ve got other news, too. I think I might have narrowed down our demon culprit.”
“Thank Go—“ I blushed and cleared my throat. I wasn’t thanking that guy for anything. “How’d you find who we were looking for?”
Jezze tilted her head and Sam and I followed her into my office. While I locked the cash in the safe, she tugged out her notebook to show us what she’d done.
“We’d narrowed it down to a pretty short list.” She ran her fingers over the page. “Demonic entities with enough power to open gateways and spread their influence into the mortal realm, and those that might have been lying in wait and conserving their power for the right moment. That still left a good number of possibilities. But then I cross-referenced the list with some of the old histories and looked for people who might have a grudge against the Morningstar family. A reason to make this personal.”
“Something to explain why they targeted my town and focused on my son.” I was growling by the time I got to the end of that sentence.
Jezebeth reached across the desk and snagged one of her books, handing it to me and pointing at a picture. It showed a towering demon, dripping fangs, claws like knives, and a massive pair of jet black wings that spanned the page. The caption listed one name—Silaran.
“Never heard of him.”
“Not surprising.” Sam leaned over my shoulder and stared at the picture. “He’s an elder demon. Banished eons ago along with Lucifer and the rest. He never made a name for himself in the more well-known Biblical tales, but his name is greatly feared among those On High.”
“Why would he be after me?” I furrowed my brow. “I mean, what did Uncle Luc do to piss him off so much?”
Jezze shrugged and flipped through the book. “The details are vague. There’s some stuff in here indicating he once tried to wrestle control of Hell away from Lucifer. He lost, obviously. I think he’s been consolidating power for millennia, waiting for his chance to strike. He’s collecting souls of the damned to increase his own strength.”
“That would explain last night.” I tumbled the events through my mind. I paced the office, putting the pieces together. “He’s smart enough to know that if he made a big move, Lucifer would stop him, not to mention possible interference from On High. He’d need a lot of souls to grow powerful enough to overthrow Satan. A lot of the damned.”
“So he sends this drug to Orlando,” Sam finished for me, crossing his arms and scowling. “Sending more people down the dark path so that their souls would be damned to hell. Effective. A few decades ago, a demon would have started a war to gather souls. These days, wars are fought with drones. Fewer casualties on both sides.”
“So he opens the ritual circles.” I snapped my fingers. “He’s got the souls. By luring them into his gates, he drags them straight to Hell. Some of those guys weren’t even damned, but he claimed them anyway. Probably pulling them to a private pocket dimension down there. Keeping them away from Uncle Luc. Which would explain why the energies were different.”
They hadn’t felt like home to me.
“He eats them all u
p.” Jezze snapped the book shut. “Then once he goes all Hulk from the sudden surge of souls, he’ll be ready to make his move. You know, but red instead of green.”
I stopped pacing and planted my hands on my hips. “He almost had what he needed last night, but we stopped most of the tweens. Though who knows how many he gobbled up before we got there. It could have been hundreds. More.”
“The question now.” Jezze dropped the notebook onto the desk as well and mirrored my stance. “Is how do we get to him? We have a target, but there’s no way of knowing where he is or where he’s going to strike next.”
“There may be something,” Sam murmured. Jezebeth and I both turned toward him. He shrugged. “It’s just a rumor. Ever since I fell, I’ve been hearing more and more of the gossip from Hell. Things dems talk about but wouldn’t concern On High.”
“And?” I was so not the patient chick.
“Word is, one of the Old Ones had taken on a mortal mistress. Normally, it’s not worth mentioning, but I heard she was promised a throne in hell. She committed suicide to make sure her soul would be damned. If the whispers are true, she was promised she would become Queen of the Damned once she arrived in Hell.”
I snorted. “Well, that didn’t happen. There hasn’t been a coup yet.”
“No,” Sam shook his head. “And according to the gossip, she never made it to her destination. Lucifer intercepted her soul and brought her into his inner circle, among the worst sinners in history. If she was being held there, Silaran wouldn’t be able to reach her.”
“That would certainly set off a demon’s temper and give him an even bigger grudge against Uncle Luc.” I tapped my fingers on my hip. “Me, by association.”
“So, what do we do now? The chick’s already dead, right?”
“Yes, but her death was quite recent. She may still have family. If so, Silaran could easily have recruited them to his cause.” Sam was just a bowlful of sunshine.