Hell in a Handbasket

by Mila Young

  I snap my fingers and the new clause is burned into the contract.

  Miranda grins. Then, using her pointed thumbnail, she pricks her finger until blood bubbles up and signs her name on the bottom. The paper shimmers, the deal sealed.

  Placing the scroll back into my jacket, I pull my shoulders back. “There. It's done. Now tell us where Aria is.”

  She steps forward until she is dangerously close to me again. Every muscle in my body seizes from aggravation. Hasn’t she learned her lesson already? Or is she testing her limits now that we’re bound to not lay a hand on her?

  I grit my teeth.

  “You may sign contracts in blood to seal your deals, but I do things a little differently,” she whispers. Then she grabs both sides of my face, lifts herself onto her toes, and crushes her mouth against mine.

  My fury is instantaneous, but so is the snap of power zipping past her lips and into my head. My vision whites out, and I gasp. A shooting pain stabs at my temples, and I lose all sense of my own body except for the warm, tingling feeling of the kiss, the drumming against my skull, and the images slowly coming into focus behind my eyes.

  The fog begins to clear, and as if I’m a bird in the sky, I see a massive, black-scaled beast soaring over the trees, wings outstretched and beating against the wind. A blast of fire spews from its mouth, singeing the tops of trees.

  Rage pushes to the surface. Sir Surchion.

  But where is Aria?

  My spectral gaze shifts down, and I see a tiny shadow darting through the woodland below, moving fast, but not fast enough to outrun a dragon. My heart pounds fiercely. There she is. My Aria.

  Watching Aria run for her life makes panic crawl over my skin. She skitters down the hill, half-tripping through the thick foliage and slippery mountainside. But besides a bunch of rocks and forest, there is nothing distinct that can help me pinpoint her location.

  Fuck, if only I could get a closer look. Why am I so high up, flying with the dragon? I need to be on the ground.

  Miranda's power is limited, it seems. It doesn't expand beyond what the dragon can see.

  My gaze stretches out over the trees to the sparkling lights of a city’s edge. It has to be Glenside. There is only one main highway that leads into it, weaving around the mountains and lakes. We’re about thirty miles east, if I were to guess by the position of the lowering sun. It isn’t much to go on, but it is something.

  My vision clears again, and that strange electric charge surges across my lips. When I open my eyes, Miranda is pulling away, a predatory smile on her face.

  My hand whips out and snatches her around the throat. My darkness rises, and I squeeze hard. Part of me wants to strangle the life out of her for kissing me like that, but the other part wants her to do it again so I can see more of Aria's location.

  Her eyes bulge and her nails claw at my arm. I lift her onto her tiptoes, and she gasps for breath.

  “Did you see something?” Dorian asks me. “Aria? Did you see her?”

  Ignoring Miranda’s sputtering, I glare at her, seething. “I saw the collector, but only got a quick glimpse of Aria. Barely anything helpful at all.”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal, Miranda,” Dorian snaps.

  She sucks in a shallow breath. “I cannot see her clearly,” she barely gets out. “She must not be part of this plane.”

  Dorian’s gaze shifts to me. He’s thinking the same thing. “She’s like us?”

  “Or…” She points up to indicate Heaven. Her sentence is cut up from the lack of oxygen entering into her lungs. “But... I brought you… as close as… I could… get.”

  I shove her back, releasing her. She drops onto the ground and rubs her throat, gulping down air.

  Knowing that we’ve gotten the most we can out of her—which isn’t much at all—I nod for Dorian to follow me out. We head for the tent’s opening where Elias is waiting, and I hold the curtain open for Dorian to step through before me.

  “Remember our deal, Prince of Hell. You owe me,” Miranda’s wheezy voice calls to my turned back. It’s enough to pause me midstep with the curtain in hand. “I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

  I don’t look at her. There’s no need to. The seer’s ominous words do their job by sinking into me and following me out.

  Chapter Four

  Aria

  Darkness suffocates me.

  I plunge through it, my feet slapping stone with each rushed step. Up ahead, a faint light appears, a beacon of safety, and I run for my life toward it. Anything to give me a sense of direction and security. A way out instead of running into more danger.

  Darting forward, I glance behind me to the gaping mouth of the cave, the sunlight beaming outside.

  Sir Surchion is a dark blot in the distance, his crow flying overhead.

  A shiver zips down my spine. If he catches me, he’ll kill me. I saw it in his eyes earlier, and I don’t doubt his intentions for a moment.

  I sprint faster towards the dim light. It brings me to an open area with a torch sitting in a metal bracket on the wall and four tunnels spiking outward in different directions. There’s nothing else but shadows flicking across the stone walls and a heavy, stuffy stench.

  For fuck's sake. Can't anything be simple?

  Each passage is as dark as the next, without a hint of what lies inside.

  With no time, I follow my gut instinct and dive into the one dead ahead for one reason—it takes me as far from the monster chasing me as possible.

  Patting the walls, I race through the darkness, convinced I'm going to break my neck. Either that or be eaten by a dragon. I am fine with choosing the lesser of the two evils right now.

  The walls are rough under my guiding hand, the stones loose and falling away like the whole mountain might come down on top of me at any moment. I glance back, and only the faint glow of the torch flickers across the tunnel, creating disfigured shadows.

  Fear wedges in my throat that any second now, that bastard will step into view.

  On my next step, my foot drops straight down through the floor. My heart lurches, as does my stomach. I’m falling, my arms flinging outward to find purchase, but I come up short. The cry in my throat is a strangled sound all the way down.

  My fall ends abruptly. My ass smacks the floor, an ache lancing up my spine. I groan, my eyes watering at the pain, but there’s no time to regroup. I’m already sliding down what feels like a shaft.

  Suddenly, I’m thrown to the right, slamming into the wall. My head hits the squishy soil surrounding me. Soft feathery things scrape over my face.

  Spiders?

  Panic swallows me. I bat my face, yelling, squirming, when light abruptly rushes up toward me. Next thing I know, I’m flying out from the tunnel and slamming into a collection of unruly shrubs. Sharp branches dig into my neck and arms, twisting in my hair.

  My head spins, but I don’t wait another second. I scramble to my feet, tearing away from the branches attached to me. My heart bangs in my chest as every inch of my body aches from being shoved and knocked about.

  Half expecting Sir Surchion to be on my tail, I glance at the tunnel I just escaped from, dreading he’ll show up any second. But he never comes. Maybe someone is looking after me up in Heaven after all.

  I snort a laugh at the absurdity of such a thought.

  Taking a second to gather myself, I study the forest of where I’ve ended up. Woods are in every direction, firs and oaks, twisted branches and evergreens. I turn back, and behind me rises the enormous mountain made of sharp slopes and flat rock.

  If I keep following the downward slope of this mountain and stay within the shadow of the trees, maybe I can escape. Really escape, too—from Sir Surchion and from the demons. I can be free.

  Whipping around, I jolt down the hill, calculating every step around shrubs, broken dead branches, bent trees low enough to whack into my face. The place is a jungle.

  Birds squawk in the distance. Mordecai, the crow?

  I
throw myself against a trunk, the bark prickly against my skin. Gasping heavily for breath, I plaster myself and glance up between the gaps of the canopy of trees. A black bird flies overhead, and I curse under my breath. Who would have thought I could hate a bird so much?

  I stay pinned like that, against the tree, for five more tense minutes, my gaze never leaving the sky. If I can get out of these woods in one piece, this can be my chance to run from everyone. I know a few shelters that help out the homeless in Glenside. I can lay low for a couple of weeks, then decide my next steps. It sucks I don’t have the Orb of Chaos, but better I have my life and soul.

  My stomach flips at the thought of the demons, and not in the way a sane person would expect. But as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me—my libido, specifically—has grown attached to them. But that’s not going to work long-term.

  Demons eat souls.

  I have a soul.

  Demons live in Hell.

  Definitely not my idea of prime real estate.

  I’ve had sex with an incubus, for fuck’s sake. I’ve even sucked a hellhound shifter’s huge dick.

  Sweet Jesus, something is broken inside me.

  I need to get my priorities straight. No matter how much my insides tingle at the thought of the three demons, I need to get away from them before it’s too late.

  Breaking back into a run, I climb over a dead log. My pulse is racing. Sweat drips down my spine, and my breathing is ragged. The trees are less dense in this area, and my hope spikes that it means I’m reaching the base of the mountain.

  A sudden, spine-tingling wailing noise pierces through the forest.

  I freeze, looking around. There have to be wolves in these woods. Cougars. Bears. Lots of different wild animals that would love to eat me. I crouch and pick up a sturdy branch just in case.

  The noise comes again from my right, and I duck behind a tree. Slowly, I peer out. There’s nothing there. Only the trees swaying in the wind, branches grating together, leaves shaking. My heart pounds in my ears. Is Sir Surchion stalking me, too? My skin crawls, and I keep looking over my shoulder.

  Another wailing sound, half sounding like a cat screeching in battle or in pain. My stomach flips with worry. Maybe it’s just an animal that’s hurt or trapped nearby?

  There’s only one way to be sure.

  Holding my breath, I move toward the noise to investigate, branch held high and at the ready.

  Farther ahead, amid the trees and shadows, a figure stands with his back to me. I can tell it’s a man by his broad shoulders, round midsection, the dark cargo pants and jacket he wears, and short-cropped chestnut hair. With a shotgun sitting over his shoulder, it’s clear he’s a hunter in these woods, and my anger flares. Vermont is known for its vast forests, mountain ranges, lakes, and such, so hunting isn’t an uncommon sport around here. Most follow the strict rules, having the necessary permits and licenses, and hunting within the right season. But then there are those backwoods creeps who think they can play God because they own a gun and kill anything that moves. This guy seems to be swaying on his feet, his movements jerky and unbalanced. Drunk, more than likely. So that tells me he’s probably not one of the law-abiding types. It boils my blood.

  He leans over and grabs for something on the ground. That crying sound comes again, a frantic whine for help. I see a small puff of gray and white fur, and coldness runs through me. Not a deer. Not a wild turkey or waterfowl.

  Instinct kicks in, and I creep forward for a better look. My steps are noisier than they should be because of the dead leaves crunching underfoot, but the hunter is so drunk and the animal’s cries are so loud, he doesn’t seem to hear me approach. I see pointed ears, and my heartbeat falters. A cat? He’s trapped a cat? Bastard!

  Gripping the solid branch until my knuckles turn white, I shuffle closer and raise it in the air. My pulse thuds so hard in my ear, I’m sure the whole forest can hear it.

  A tremendous roar booms across the heavens, shaking the ground. The horrific sound could only have been made only by a dragon.

  There’s no ignoring a sound like that. The man spins, suddenly seeing me right behind him. Shock startles him back a step, his eyes huge like orbs.

  I go with pure, primal impulse, and a whole lot of panic, then I swing the branch sideways at him before he can react. It smacks into his head with a dull thump. His eyes roll into the back of his head, and he falls over onto the ground like a sack.

  Oh, shit! Did I kill him?

  Worry pinches that I did more damage than I intended to. I lunge forward and touch the side of his neck. A strong pulse beats against my fingertips. Okay, alive. Just knocked out.

  I swipe a hand across my sweaty forehead and scramble back to my feet. One more look at the sky, and I’m relieved to see no signs of a dragon flying overhead

  Something nudges into my leg and cries out.

  I jump and drop my gaze to see a small animal. A tiny little bundle of dark gray with spots, long ears with tufts of hair jutting out from the tips. The fur under the chin and stomach is pure white. It’s a gorgeous baby lynx with a chain around its neck. It peers up at me with gorgeous bright green eyes and cries out. My heart melts. I fall to my knees, quickly unleashing the little thing. It licks my hand.

  I pat its soft fur. “You’re free now. Go back to your mommy.”

  Another thunderous roar sounds just as a massive shadow swoops overhead, sending all the trees into a frantic shaking, swaying in every direction.

  Damn, he’s flying lower to the ground, searching for me. It’s not safe to stay here. I have to move.

  Giving the lynx one last wave to encourage it to go, I dart out of there, remaining in the shadows. I move with speed down the hill. The decline quickly steepens, and I’m forced to use low hanging branches to keep myself from slipping on the moist, slippery ground. It’s a death trap in the making.

  The uneven ground coupled with my panicked footsteps has me mostly staggering down the slope, barely able to stay upright. Then, as I fear, I slip on a patch of dead leaves and lose my footing altogether. I’m suddenly tumbling down on my ass and into a fast roll down, down, down. My world spins for those few death-defying moments, then comes to an abrupt halt when I slam into a log. All the air is knocked out of my lungs, and I groan as the pain catches up with me. Everything hurts. God, I hate these woods.

  A bundle of fur rolls and crashes right into my stomach, making crying sounds. I shudder at first, until I realize it’s the lynx.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper.

  It’s on its feet, twirling on the spot as if getting ready to settle down for a snooze next to me. That’s when I also catch a quick glimpse of its backside to see I’m dealing with a little boy. A determined and reckless little boy.

  The dragon swoops overhead once more, its wings swiping across the top layer of the canopy. Branches snap and rain down, and I immediately snatch the lynx kitten and press my back against the log. A second later, a branch crashes just a foot away, narrowly missing us.

  Another thunderous roar, this time accompanied by an explosion of fire. Heat envelopes us. I hold the little babe tighter against my chest and curl up beneath the inferno.

  When it dissipates, I raise my head. The lynx looks up too, making more little screeching sounds to tell me it’s scared.

  It’s going to draw attention to us. My stomach churns at the thought. “Listen, little one, you need to stay here, okay? Better yet, go back to your momma.”

  He responds by rubbing himself against my leg like a domestic cat.

  “Seriously?” With no time to waste, I bend down and scoop him into my arms, which silences him, and run like the dickens.

  Chapter Five

  Dorian

  The dragon circling in the sky is a dead giveaway. With Cain’s guidance and the information he learned through Miranda’s foresight, we arrived at this mountainside outside Glenside’s more civilized parts to find Aria. In hindsight, I probably should have warned Cain ab
out what Miranda was and how she “shares” her visions through intimate contact, but it was more fun to watch him squirm. I’ll probably end up regretting the choice later, but oh well.

  The moment we spotted Sir Surchion’s dragon flying overhead, we knew we’d found our mountain. The way the dragon is swooping over the mountain tells me Aria has been able to evade his capture. Smart girl.

  The rest is up to us now, which is why the three of us have split up to search for her. Elias took the left-hand side, Cain the right, and I took the middle in hopes we could cover enough ground to find her before reaching the summit. All while not drawing attention to ourselves and ending up as barbeque.

  I march quicker up the tree-covered hill, dried leaves and twigs crunching under each step. Even though we’ve narrowed our search down to this mountain, it’s still a fucking mountain. We each switch into our full demons.

  Shit. I should have bet who’d find her first. Elias might be a hunter by birth, but I am faster in my demon form. I have that advantage over them both, and it would have been nice to win and be able to choose what souls we get to devour next.

  I’m damn tired of Cain’s selection of criminals, people who already are destined for Hell. It’s his justification for interrupting their lives early. And Elias always picks females who’ve cheated on their partners or killed them. Yeah, a blind man could see the pattern there… I enjoy the sexually tormented, myself. Virgins are the sweetest, of course, but the wild ones are my favorite. Not only do their overcharged libidos stimulate the ravenous incubus in me, they taste crisp and smooth going down, leaving me buzzing with power.

  At the thought, my adrenaline rushes and I bolt up the terrain. I listen for any sounds, scouring the land all around me. There’s movement to my right, but it proves to only be a fox darting into a burrow.

  I sigh and keep going, never letting my awareness falter. If we're lucky, we'll retrieve the harp's parts as well. And if lady luck wants to keep on giving today, she can let me be the one to rip the collector’s head off. That’d be the cherry on top.