Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy)

by Celia Kyle

  With so many souls to feast upon, Silaran must have grown stronger than we had ever imagined.

  The bodies of those poor souls, nothing more than empty shells animated by dark magic, rushed at us in a flood of rage. They were faster than the everyday zombie, their bodies enhanced by this place and the warlock’s magic. These weren’t the green-eyed sentient guys of last year, but they were damned close.

  Wave after wave came at us, my vision blurred by the zombie flesh coating me, my sword cutting one in half before I turned to another. I sent waves of hellfire rocketing through the cave, keeping sight of Sam and Jezze so I didn’t burn them with the heat of my fury. Sam tore apart zombie after zombie, fighting with all his strength. His sword flashed in one hand, burning through another zombie’s neck before he cut a second in half at the waist. Jezze sent bolts of sizzling magical energy through them, lighting up the zombies with the bright green light just before they fell to the ground into a mound of ash.

  They kept coming, they kept pushing and pushing, shoving us backward as we sought to fight at a safe distance. But there were too many and we were already worn out from the other battles. Scarred and injured, exhausted and desperate for rest.

  No rest for the wicked, right?

  We fell back. No, that sounds like it was a choice. We were pushed back, harder and harder by the advancing mass, until we reached the tunnel leading from the cavern. The narrow tunnel served as a natural bottleneck, keeping the zombies from surrounding and overpowering us. We held them there, dropping one corpse after another, but the flow never slowed. It was an unending stream of the undead, thirsting for our blood and death, controlled by their dark magical master.

  My strength wasn’t going to last. The ground was littered with severed arms, eviscerated guts, and chunks of decaying, putrid flesh. The stone and sand was soaked in blood. The air filled with the sounds of our battle cries and moans of the zombie horde.

  My arms were about to fall off, the weight of my swinging sword and dagger dragging on me.

  Then the howls came—loud and long. And what I’d been hoping for. I heard the pounding steps before they even came into sight, the ground seeming to tremble with the large, approaching mass.

  “Against the walls!” I shouted above the sounds, yanking Jezze back beside me while Sam flattened against the opposite. We jumped back just as the howls of Papa Al and the pack filled the tunnel.

  They charged past us, wolf after wolf in their shifted forms, and tore through the zombies in a wave of fur and fangs. Undead flesh was ripped from bone, the pack tearing into the cavern. My own wolf stirred, itching to shift and run with the pack, but I held it back. I couldn’t let my feral side out again. I needed to keep my head.

  So I leapt into the fray with Jezze and Sam, sword and blade back at work.

  Papa Al pushed through the line, howling and snapping his jaws. He was larger than the other wolves, formidable in his own right and even larger than me if he lost himself to the wolf. I’d been wrong earlier. I wasn’t what movies were based on—he was.

  He yanked down another zombie and stomped on its head, claws digging into the neck, and a flick of his leg beheaded the monster. He looked at me, releasing a short bark, and I caught his eye, knowing his message without words.

  The wolves would hold the line.

  I nodded and waved to Jezze and Sam. “Let’s go. They’ll hold the zombies!”

  We fought our way to the edges of the battling mass, angling for the exit, cutting down enemies as we passed. We darted into the tunnel, catching a few more stray zombies here and there that we cut down with ease. We edged around one corner, then another, then the tunnel narrowed and…

  Chanting. Dark. Pulsating. Rhythmic.

  The kind of chanting that touched that deep place in my heart. Dark magic. Blackest of the black. Tempting. Alluring.

  I recalled my fathers, the peace they’d taught me and the joy to be found in life. My unicorn father, my pixie dad, my fierce warrior, my indestructible wolf, and Father Earth who loved all living things. The darkness in my soul wanted to destroy everything that breathed, but those five had me pushing back against those needs.

  I slowed my pace, advancing cautiously with my blade raised in front of me. My palms were sweaty and slick, muscles aching and screaming for relief. Some of my wounds had closed, at least enough that I wasn’t going to bleed to death, but I was still hurting. I took deep breaths to steady myself, calming my heart before I sped toward another round of violence and mayhem.

  I looked to Sam, silently asking him if he was prepared for this. He could read my gaze as easily as I read his, both of us prepared to do this for the good of all—and together.

  I did the same with Jezze and while Sam’s stare had been serious and firm, Jezze’s was overjoyed and excited.

  Was all of this death-defying and potentially fatal? Of course. But I usually never let Jezze get in on the good, bloody stuff. I had no doubt that she figured she could drag a carcass or two home for the gators herself. I couldn’t tell her no if she did her own killing.

  I nodded to my friend, confirming her readiness and… that she could keep her kills.

  Those two at my side, I marched forward into the chamber.

  Another cavern opened before us, a massive ritual circle etched into the ground in the center. On the far side stood a man in black robes, his hands held high, changing and channeling dark magics. Several bound and gagged humans lay in the center, bleeding from the dark runes carved into their faces and chests. I rushed forward to save them, but it was too late.

  Too late.

  Black lighting shot from the robed man’s palms and into the pour souls lying in the circle. They writhed in pain, eyes widening for a spare moment before the convulsions stopped and they laid limp.

  Lifeless.

  Too late.

  That dark figure threw back his cliché hood with a cackle, telling me what I already knew. “You’re too late. My dark lord will soon be here, and with the power I’ve channeled, he will be unstoppable.”

  I gritted my teeth and raised my blade. “Not on my watch, Maxim. Not sure if anyone told you, but this is my fucking town.”

  And it’d stay mine.

  He laughed and raised his hands, pulling energy from the dead bodies before him. The energy coalesced into ethereal humanoid forms. Dark phantoms made from the souls of the dead. For a moment, I expected him to channel their souls to Silaran. Instead, he sent them our way, smoky maws spread widely with silent screams and powered by the unholy magic he channeled.

  I sliced my blade through one, but the steel cut through its incorporeal form—doing no damage. The phantom grabbed me, black claws digging into my skin and tearing into my soul. It seared the hidden part of me, scorching it, poking and stabbing it with those invisible fingers. I screamed in agony, struggling to pull the creature off. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jezze and Sam struggling against the phantoms as well, but there was nothing I could do. Not while I fought to keep my own soul from being ripped out of my body.

  What would my soul do for Silaran?

  I channeled hellfire through my hands, battling to burn the spirit away, but it had no effect. There was nothing to burn, no body to cut and tear. I’d never fought a ghost. I had no idea how to defeat it. I knew the right kind of magic or mystical force with the help of On High could defeat a creature like this, but I was sorta lacking in that area.

  My mind raced, trying to think of a power that I might use to defeat my attacker. My werewolf blood did nothing—fur and fangs couldn’t hurt a ghost. Nor could the powers from Papa Eron, Father Earth. He had dominion over plants and animals, but this was neither. My pesky pixie and unicorn blood were no use either.

  But Papa Leth… The first of my five fathers had been a great warrior, a soldier of God. He taught me to fight, but a crusader was more than just a warrior. He’d been a holy fighter for justice and now his spirit carried a touch of the divine.

  That was why my mot
her had chosen him and it was one of the gifts he’d given me at conception. A touch of the divine to keep me from being eternally damned like her.

  As Lucifer’s niece, my soul was nearly as black as his, but with the purity of my unicorn father and holy strength from Papa Leth…

  I drew on that purity, on the tiny little sliver of holiness buried deep within my blackened soul. It wasn’t much more than a spark. I’d always been more in touch with my dark side, but that divine flicker remained.

  I needed it now more than ever.

  I grasped it and drew it forth, pouring everything I had into that small orb. The spark flared in my palm, burning bright. A light directly from On High shone forth, blazing against the dark phantom. I pressed my hand against its incorporeal chest, channeling the light into the ethereal being. The light burned, searing across my vision. If was foreign and strange, a part of me I barely knew and wasn’t sure I liked. But I supposed that just like an angel could succumb to sin and fall, a bitch straight outta Hell could embrace the light.

  At least for a little while.

  The divine light burned through the phantom. It wailed in agony as it was torn from its tenuous grasp on this world. The dark shadows that made up its form flickered and finally faded away. Its screams tore into the depths of my soul, nearly driving me mad. Then, finally, the unholy spirit was ripped away, banished from the tween.

  It drifted off, freed from the warlock’s dark magics and able to return to On High where it belonged. And I knew that as a truth. Just as Sam had cleansed humans in the city, my small connection to On High had saved the pour soul Maxim had tried to sacrifice.

  I dropped to one knee, panting, energy spent and unable to support myself. I wouldn’t stay down for long.

  But fuck, how did Sam go through that more than once a day?

  I pushed myself up, finding my center once more, meeting his glaring gaze and his clenched fists showed the proof of his anger.

  “You haven’t won,” he snarled. “This is just the beginning. That was nothing.”

  He raced for the circle, crazed gaze centered on the dead bodies and blood-strewn pentagram—ready to escape into Hell. Jezze and Sam still struggled with the phantoms, but they looked to be faring better than I had. And I couldn’t have drawn on the divine energy again if I’d tried. My only hope to end this was Maxim.

  I rushed forward, uncaring of what would happen next. I wasn’t about to let this fucking warlock get away.

  23

  The room tilted as I rushed after the warlock, the dark energy of the circle warping space as I crossed into a place halfway between this dimension and the next. I skidded and slid down the angled floor toward my target. I dug my heels in and raised my blade, swinging it at Maxim as soon as I got within reach. I caught him across the thigh and he tripped, falling just before he entered the circle.

  I grabbed his ankle and hauled him back while he tried to crawl and escape me. He kicked me off him, surprisingly strong, and I fell onto my back against the stone floor, head slamming against the ground.

  “Mother fucker,” I growled and flipped back to my feet, grabbing and hauling him back once more.

  We struggled at the edge of the circle, flashes of dark magic rising from the runes. They licked at my skin, as if tasting the evil in my flesh. Yeah, I wasn’t feeding them so they could get over it.

  My fingers transformed to claws and I struggled to get one around his throat. I’d choke the fucker out. But he fired a blast of midnight lightning from his palm, slamming into my middle. I was hurled back a few feet, stumbling, but I shook the strike off and rushed forward once again.

  I planted myself between him and the gate. “You’re not going anywhere, Maxim. You’ve got plenty to answer for.”

  I raised my sword in front of me, keeping the wolf’s claws in place, and gripped it with both hands. He wasn’t getting past me. If he got through the gate, I’d never find him again. I needed to face him here, in my world, in the tween.

  He pulled a spiked mace from his belt and held it up. “You’re in over your head, bitch. You cannot comprehend the powers my lord Silaran has given me.”

  I snorted. “Dickhole, I’ve heard that before. What, you think you’re the first shithead who was promised cosmic powers? I’ll let you in on a little secret. They never deliver. They’re greedy sons of bitches. They want the power. You’re nothing but a pawn.”

  “You’ll see! You’ll see how powerful I am!” He raised his hand, an orb of dark energy coalescing in his palm. “I’m not a pawn. My sister is destined to be the Queen of Hell. That puts me in a special position. Let me show you what power I’ve gained.”

  He hurled the orb at me and I stepped to the side, holding my sword like a bat. I channeled hellfire through the metal and swung for the fences. The fire deflected the blast, sending it careening into the wall. Pieces of stone exploded out, raining down on us, and Maxim covered his head from the falling stone.

  That’s when I rushed him, swinging my blade for his vulnerable throat.

  He lifted his mace, blocking my swing, and then aimed for my head. He was stronger and faster than he looked, no doubt powered up by Silaran’s blessing and dark magic. I parried his blows, but he advanced on me, moving faster than I could match. Exhaustion crept and plucked at the edges of my mind, pushing forward and threatening to attack me after all the fighting I’d been doing.

  And Maxim was at full strength. I needed to find a way to get an edge over him. Fast.

  He knocked my blade aside with the swing of his mace and then kicked me in the stomach and knocked me back against the wall. I slammed into hard stone, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs.

  Dizziness clouded my mind, the room spinning with the sensations. I tried to raise my blade again, but he attacked before I could move. He whipped out a ritual dagger, aiming for my throat. I was lucky and managed to catch him mid-swing, putting my forearm against his to stop his advance. But he pushed and pushed and pushed. He had demonic strength and leverage and my aching muscles simply couldn’t push him away.

  “You’ll make a fine sacrifice for my lord Silaran,” he hissed, face inches from mine. “Just imagine how much power he’ll gain when he devours the soul of Lucifer’s niece. You’ll be the meal that helps him rise to his supreme power. Then, when he takes over Hell, I will be a general at his side.”

  I wondered how Uncle Luc’s current generals would take having this one in their ranks.

  Behind Maxim, a figure emerged from the gate. I muttered a curse, certain that it was some dark Hell beast coming out to help Maxim kill me. Or Silaran himself. No matter what, I was screwed.

  Maxim’s blade pushed forward, sharpened edge slicing into my neck, drawing a drop of blood. It burned me with the dark magic, that divine fucking light in my soul reacting to the press of pure evil. This would kill me. This person, this warlock, this poor excuse for a breathing being was about to bring me down.

  And unleash Silaran on the tween. My Bry. My Sam. My Jezze and Momma R and… He would destroy them, snatch their souls and use them for his own purposes. He’d destroy everything I’d fought to protect and laugh as they died.

  My skin sizzled, blade sinking deeper, and still I struggled. I would fight until my last breath, until he ripped my beating heart from my chest. I may get my ass kicked, but a mother fucking Morningstar didn’t quit. I glared at him, meeting his black-eyed stare, letting him see the pure hatred that lived inside me. Let him see the toiling, rolling emotions. I fought to call on hellfire, to pull in extra energy from somewhere, but I was done. Worn out. Empty.

  Maxim lurched and I waited for the feel of his dagger slicing through my throat, for the end. But those evil eyes widened with pain, his strength easing, and his attention fell to the sword sticking out of his chest. The gleaming metal speared through his heart and tip embedded in the stone beside my head. Shock overcame his face and he lifted his attention to me. He coughed up a spurt of blood and then slouched, body giving out on hi
m, metal retreating from his chest.

  I pushed him off and he tumbled to the ground in a lifeless pile of flesh and bone.

  I swung my attention around, looking for my savior. Sam? Papa Leth? He usually fought with a sword…

  Except, standing there, her blade covered in Maxim’s blood, was my mother.

  I stared at her, shock consuming me. I didn’t know how to react. Any other time, I would have expected her to turn the blade on me, but instead, she’d saved my life.

  She drove her sword down into Maxim’s head, finishing him off with a pleased smile. Then she looked up at me. “I sensed you through the gate. I…”

  I stared at her, slowly shaking my head. She’d hurt me so much when I was younger. I couldn’t reconcile her cackling laughs and pleased smiles at my pain with my gratitude for what she’d just done.

  “Go.” She jerked her chin toward the tunnel. “Silaran is near. I won’t be able to hold him off for long.”

  “Mom… I…” I struggled to catch my breath, hands still shaking with the adrenaline coursing through my body. I couldn’t think straight—couldn’t do anything but stare.

  The cavern rumbled, burning light from the runes of the circle growing dark, and then plunged the cavern into near-total darkness.

  “Go.” She pushed me, her palm sizzling against my skin. A familiar feeling from my childhood. Though this time it was to make me hurry and not just because she liked to make me cry. “Run! Now!”

  But it was too late. There was no running or hiding. The gate opened wide, letting forth the blazing heat of Hell. I could see through the gate and spied the flames rising high, ash filling the air, and crackling mounds of brimstone that filled Hell. A towering figure stepped forward, standing more than twice my height. His skin was black, crackling seams of read twining along his arms, and a pair of mighty midnight wings spread to reach both sides of the cavern. He held a glowing red trident, weapon wreathed in hellfire.