Hell is a Harem - Book Three: Lick of Fire Series

by Faulks, Kim

  “Get your shit together,” I snarled and took a step closer.

  Pale lips curled in response, quivering. Yeah, that’s it. Hate me all you fucking want.

  “The cop’s in a goddamn coma and her world is falling apart, and you know what she’s doing right now? She’s tearing apart her own fucking soul to save us…so how about we start to do the fucking same?”

  Fear gripped me as I turned away. This wasn’t the same archangel, nor the same man. This one was violent and unpredictable. I swallowed that icy shard of fear, stilled, and glanced over my shoulder. “By the way, easy on the storm, yeah? I gotta get through this shit to find her.”

  Hate glared back at me, hate so foul I could almost taste it as the archangel folded his broken wings against his body and answered with a sneer. “That isn’t me…but I’ll make sure to pass your request on to my brother…”

  His thighs bulged as he dropped to the ground on one knee and skimmed the earth with his fingers before he drove his body upwards and leapt into the sky.

  Cars fishtailed on the road beside me and then skidded to a stop. There was a flash of lightning, one so bright it detonated like a bomb before Gabriel was gone, slipping through the foreboding clouds to disappear from sight. “Goddamn archangels…pain in my fucking ass.”

  I turned from the sight as the first fat raindrops hit the truck with a ping. I pulled the door closed behind me, turned the key, and put the truck into gear.

  I’d lost time, lost a lot of time. But there were others helping me now. Others that would hunt, and fight, and kill if need be. “I’m coming for you, Lorn…hold on baby, I’m coming for you.”

  I spun the wheel, eased back out onto the road, and then punched the accelerator. I’d drive all night, stop long enough to get fuel, and then keep on driving.

  She wouldn’t stay in Greenwich. She wouldn’t be that dumb. She’d be out of there, heading toward Jerry Leander, so that’s where I’d be.

  I leaned across the seat, grabbed my phone, hit the number for Betty, and put it on speaker. The phone rang three times before she answered. “Redemption.”

  “I want all the information you have on Leander, address and business. I want to know how many people he has working for him and what kind of supes they are. I need everything, Betty, everything that will get me there first. Killing one human was one thing, but a crime spree like this will be her death for sure. Can you do that? Can you get me what I need?”

  There was a second of silence before the older woman answered and I heard the pain in her voice. “You shouldn’t have to ask that. I’ll get you anything you need.”

  I wanted to say more, to say…I’m sorry. But I couldn’t, not to her, and not to Gabriel. I needed them sharp, hungry…fucking hating me if it came to it.

  That night filled my mind in the rush of a breath. I was back there in that old apartment as Betty pounded on Alma’s door. She was all fire, all flames that night…a sixty-year-old woman ready to take me on…

  Only that wasn’t the only thing that had come through the door.

  The fucking hellhound barreled in after her, ready to drag me to the bowels of Hell. We were honed that night…honed like a razor’s edge fresh from the stone.

  We were hungry. We were desperate…just like I was desperate now.

  Cars flew past, moving in the opposite direction. I caught the silver grille of an unmarked cop car before it was gone. Streets and buildings flew by until I hit the city limits and then headed out into the arid landscape.

  My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and then hit the button. “What have you got for me?”

  Betty started talking, listing off addresses and details of his business. The man was a self-made millionaire many times over, with at least thirty mercenaries on his books. Vampires, wolves, a centaur, for Christ’s sake, and a rogue Unseelie henchman…one of the Queen’s own guard, according to Betty.

  Not one of the things you want to advertise…

  Not when the Queen had a wicked, volatile temper.

  What was hers was hers…those old dark memories sank in fangs and took hold. I knew that better than anyone, and I had the damn scars to prove it.

  No one left her without suffering, and very few made it out alive. I gripped the wheel and tapped the button, ending the call. I wanted to talk to this Unseelie henchman. I wanted to talk to him very much indeed.

  I passed the bullet-riddled sign at the turnoff to Alma’s house and fought the urge to turn the wheel. The woman had been a damn constant in my life. Coming to me in a night of desperate need. Lorn had to be protected, and to do that I’d had to break her heart.

  But love was a double-edged sword, cutting me just as deep. I hid my pain, hid my sorrow. But I never stopped loving her.

  And it was that love that gripped the wheel. It was that love I felt urging me to punch the pedal to the floor…

  Night swallowed day in a heartbeat as the clouds moved in to claim the sun. I hit the lights and then the wipers, as a few heavy drops turned into a torrent.

  This isn’t me…but I’ll make sure to pass it on to my brother…

  I leaned forward to catch the jagged bolt of lightning across the sky. But instead of heavy dark clouds behind it, there was red. Blood painted the sky as though Hell had leaked into the mortal realm.

  And that thought was terrifying. “Easy, old man. Don’t do anything rash.”

  The needle climbed on the speedometer. Miles ticked by as I headed toward Killman Bay. I lifted my gaze to check the cars behind me and caught the familiar sight of the unmarked police cruiser.

  Vampires.

  Archangels.

  And now goddamn humans.

  All after one thing…the goddamn woman I loved…

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lorn

  Something was wrong. The pain in my thigh had dulled, but it was throbbing now, like the beast had a beat of its own. I gripped the muscle high and drove my nails into the denim.

  Bone-grinding.

  Soul-crushing.

  Making me whimper.

  Making me weak.

  I grasped the energy drink and swallowed the remainder of the painkillers. I needed more…I needed something stronger. Just enough to get through, and then whatever happens would happened.

  A crack of thunder tore across the sky high above as storm clouds moved in. The window of the old pickup wouldn’t close all the way, leaving the bitter wind to whistle and howl in my ear. I jerked the handle, and then pushed the glass. Still the damn thing refused to budge, leaving me wincing at the damn sound. I grabbed my thin jacket, leaned to the side, and poked the edges through the gap.

  It worked, for a while…long enough for the agony in my thigh to raise its ugly head. I gripped the wheel and held on, turning on the wipers when the first drops of rain plopped on the windshield and then finding the next speed when it turned torrential.

  Cars slowed as I crawled toward Killman and slowly pine trees gave way to soft flowing palms and sandy soil—just like the arid earth back home. My hands shook against the wheel as Alma filled my mind. I jerked the wheel and eased the big pickup against the curb in front of an all-night pharmacy.

  She was so real, as though I could pick up the phone and call her. But I couldn’t, and she wasn’t...and the loss was a gaping wound bigger than the one in my thigh. I opened the door and carefully stood.

  My legs wouldn’t hold me, jerking and trembling. I wasn’t going to make it…not to Jerry Leander, not anywhere. Warm tears slipped down my cheeks as thunder growled overhead.

  My sigil flared hot across my palm. I opened myself to the power, and the burn carried through my veins. Something was calling me, some cocoon of power whispered my name as I crept from the pickup and forced my feet to hold me.

  Hell spoke to me…it was that urgency I felt now, driving me forward one step at a time toward the pharmacy and the bright lights inside.

  I pushed the door open and stumbled inside as the pharmacist lifted his he
ad behind the counter. I tried to catch his concern, tried to hold on to everything around me as fire flared through my veins to settle in my thigh.

  “You okay?” The pharmacist moved closer.

  I tried to force a smile. “Need the strongest painkillers you have and something for an infection.”

  Concern flared in his eyes. “What kind of infection?”

  The doors to the front of the store opened and closed behind me. But all I could see was the white coat as the pharmacist came closer. Gun shot…thigh. I scanned the counter and stopped on the sign. No Supernaturals allowed.

  “Everything okay, Hank?” The gravelly female voice came from behind me…sounding like…

  I spun, catching the glare of bright overhead lights, and felt the room sway. The woman blurred under the lights as she stepped forward. “Alma?”

  “Doctor Mendle,” the pharmacist behind me called.

  I was caught by the shadows as the woman moved closer. Heat blasted along my palm, carving and slicing. I dragged my hand high and stared at the darkened marks.

  “Read the sign. We don’t allow Supernaturals in here.”

  I ignored the remark behind me as the woman stepped even closer. Shadows shifted, catching the edge of her cheekbones, and then the well of her deep brown eyes. “Hank, don’t be an ass. Look at the girl…”

  “But…” he muttered.

  The woman paid him no mind. She reached out, grasped my hand by my fingers and rotated my wrist to stare at the thick black markings on my palm. “You do this yourself? You a witch?”

  “No,” the whisper slipped free as I stared.

  She was so much like Alma in some ways, and in many ways, she wasn’t. Rain was still beaded on her skin and trickled down. Her deep brown eyes didn’t have that coldness that cut in Alma’s. The thick, sodden braid of silver hair hung over one shoulder to brush her breast. I glanced at the stethoscope around her neck and then dropped my gaze to the pack in her hand.

  “Mr. Pree okay?” The asshole behind the counter muttered.

  She moved her fingers to the inside of my wrist. “Just fine, no better, no worse…not like this one here. I heard the word infection. Your pulse is thready and weak, skin cold and clammy. Why don’t you sit down over here, honey, and you can tell me what’s going on?”

  “Let me call an ambulance,” the pharmacist grunted.

  Panic reared. I shook my head. “No, no ambulance. I’m okay…I just need some painkillers.”

  The doctor jerked her head high and scowled at the asshole behind the counter. “Don’t be so damn daft. No...no one’s calling an ambulance, you’re okay. You’re safe with me.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the groan of disapproval as the asshole rounded the counter. “Meg, she can’t stay…”

  “Fine…fine, Hank,” she snarled, drawing me back to her. A fighter reared in those brown eyes as she muttered, “You always were a spineless bastard.”

  She bent, reached into her bag, and pulled out a prescription pad. “Here, make yourself useful and fill this, then.”

  “You can’t…you can’t write your own…”

  Her lips curled into a sneer. “Call it supplies. Now hurry the hell up, or this young lass looks like she’s about to hurl all over your nice clean floor here…aren’t you, honey?”

  I caught the glint of amusement in her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I don’t feel so hot right now.”

  There was a scuff of shoes, hurrying steps, fumbling fingers that clinked bottles together as they spilled against the counter.

  “Hold on.” The doctor reached out and grasped my hand. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

  Pain stabbed in my thigh…the heat was rising, swelling like a wave inside me. Sweat ran down my brow as I looked down at the dried brown patch on the denim over my thigh.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured, and brushed her fingers along my hand. “Hold on there.”

  “Here…” Hank snapped. “Here, here’s your order.”

  The doctor rose, left me for a moment, and moved to the counter. “Put it on the tab, Hank…and Hank…not one word. Don’t make me ruin you.”

  Footsteps came closer. She gave me a hint of a smile, shoved the bag of drugs into the top of her bag, and bent to grasp my arm. “Let’s go, precious. I have my right car out front and my place is just around the corner.”

  “It’s Lorn…my name is Lorn.” Fuck, she had some fire. I could see it all blazing bright in her eyes. Kin to kin…I felt the call. But it was dull…swallowed by mortal blood. I turned and followed, taking the steps nice and slow, while the fires of hell raged in my thigh.

  “Lorn, right,” She gave a nod and then shoved through the door, lowered her head, and stepped out into the rain. Fat drops hit my face. I turned toward the old pickup.

  “Leave it,” she yelled over the drumming of the downpour. “I’ll drive you back for it.”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t leave it, couldn’t risk it, not without my stuff. “I’ll follow you. I got this far, I can get around the corner.”

  She stopped, straightened, and then gave a nod. “Okay, flash your lights if you’re in trouble, and don’t goddamn faint.”

  Her hand slipped from around my waist, as I stumbled for the truck. I held on…held on while I climbed back inside. Held on while I started the engine and followed her down the street and then turned.

  She pulled up outside a perfect yellow house, with purple, blue, and white flowers standing up behind the small white picket fence. Her car door opened and closed, then she raced through the open gate toward the front door.

  I was trapped between the road and the fire in my leg. An hour…an hour is all I could give her, get a shot, something strong enough to dull the pain, and then I was back on the road again.

  I shoved open my driver’s door as she unlocked her house and slipped inside. Heavy drops smacked the back of my head as I shoved my door closed and then followed, hobbling step by agonizing step toward her.

  Bright lights flared inside before she was back out again, racing down the steps toward me. “Come on, I have everything I need to help you.”

  I gripped the timber railing and pulled, dragging myself up one stair and then the other.

  Meg Mendle, GP. The brass plaque said on the wall as she eased me through the front door.

  The place was pretty, whites, and yellows…too pretty for someone like me…

  Heat spilled and I glanced down at my thigh to see fresh blood seeping free.

  The front door closed and the lock snapped shut. “That looks bad. I’ve got the heater going inside, so let’s get those clothes off you and see what damage you’ve done.”

  She supported me to the bed and then turned to her bag. “Pants off and up on the bed. Claws or fangs?”

  I dropped my hands to my jeans. “Neither, gun.”

  She stilled for a second before she spilled the bottles and packets onto the stainless tray beside her. “Not what I was expecting. Is the bullet still inside?”

  “No.”

  There was a nod. “Good, that’s good. I didn’t want to have to put you under.”

  I shoved my jeans low, stepped on the heel of my boots, and yanked my feet free. “Thank you,” I murmured as she grabbed a syringe and plunged the needle into a bottle. The leather was cold against my ass, tearing a shudder free.

  “You can thank me later. You’re running a high fever and to be honest, a hospital is where you need to be. But I have a feeling anything to do with the authorities is out of the question. Am I right?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, just pulled on latex gloves and turned, raised the needle high, and plunged it into my good thigh. The sting was instant, distracting me from the fire.

  “Not bad,” she muttered and pressed against the wound. “Not good, either.”

  “The Supe,” I hissed as she pressed deeper, gouging muscle. “Which one was it?”

  “Demon, on my mother’s side.” She never flinched as she answer
ed, and then lifted her gaze. “I’ve never told anyone before. Not even my husband of fifty-three years.” She straightened, moved to the stainless tray, and smiled. “It feels good to get that off my chest. Folks around here don’t really welcome others of our kind.”

  “I got that impression,” I muttered.

  She gripped a small plastic vial, twisted the top free, and then turned toward me. “And you, what…creature?”

  Shifter…Hellhound…Orc… none of those applied. “Daughter, how’s that…”

  She smiled, squirted the stuff all over the wound and then picked up another syringe. The bottle was different that she drew from this time. “Daughter indeed. This here is gonna sting like a bitch…for one whole second.”

  I gave a nod and gripped the sides of the mattress as she sank the steel needle tip into the reddened flesh. She was right, in a second, the pain was gone…even when she drew the needle free and punctured the wound once more.

  She worked fast, cleaning, delving into the hollow with a pair of tweezers before she dragged a fragment free. “Here we go. There’s always one tiny bit left behind. You can bet this was the cause of your problems, not that I get many gunshot wounds these days.”

  The snip of scissors followed as she bent and stabbed the wound with a curved needle, winding the sutures around forceps before she tugged them tight. “It’ll scar, but a few days of heavy antibiotics will do the trick…if you stay off it. Keep it clean, don’t get shot or stabbed or hit again. You’ve done some damage and, immortal or not, you’ll need some time to heal.”

  I waited for her to cover the wound with a bandage before I sat up. “Thank you.”

  “These,” she peeled off the gloves and grabbed a large pack of tablets, “are as strong as they come. I’m not sure how your body metabolizes drugs right now, but they’ll take the edge off the pain, just don’t take too many at once.”

  This was three times…three times someone had helped me. I didn’t believe in coincidences.

  “You’re lucky. I hadn’t planned on going to the store tonight. I planned on coming straight home in this damn rain. Somehow, I had this feeling I was needed, and it looks like the hunch was right. You’ve got a Guardian Angel following you, child.”