Possess Me Under The Mistletoe

by Mila Young

She screamed.

  It collided into her chest, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Fire engulfed her, searing her from the inside out. And at once, her world blackened.

  Chapter 4

  Cyra

  Cyra screamed, her vocal cords strained, her arms flailed outward as she fell through the air. The darkness was like a pillow over her mouth and nose. She’d lost her sense of reality and why she was falling; instead, she pictured herself hitting the ground with a splat. Dread curled at the edges of her mind, insisting this was the end. She’d die here… wherever here was.

  She hit the ground, hip first, and sprawled backward. “Godammit!” Tears crammed into her eyes as a dull ache swallowed her whole.

  A sudden flash of light nearby blinded her, and she squinted, trying to make out the source. What’s going on? Where’s the light coming from?

  Around her she found a bleak forest crowded with gnarled trees bent at odd angles. Their bare branches spiked into a sky burning with orange flames, lighting the place with a yellowy haze, though it was impossible to tell if it was day or night. The heat scorched across her shoulders, her face… everything. This was definitely not the attic. Had she fallen into Hell?

  She pressed her hands against the ground and pushed herself up.

  Steam rose up from the parched ground, stinking of sulfur. Decayed woodland robbed of leaves and life surrounded her. Nothing made sense. Already her knuckles turned white as she clenched her hands into fists against her stomach. Her breathing quickened as her thoughts tumbled with horrific scenes of her death. Fear gnawed at her, melting her defenses like a festering wound.

  “I shouldn’t be here.”

  She retreated, picking up speed as she scoured the woods for a way back. This wasn’t where she belonged—alive or dead. She used a shoulder to wipe away the tears threading down her cheek. The demon in the attic must have shoved her down here, and nobody would know. They’d search and never find her. Chase would never give up until it drove him insane. And Gunn… he’d blame himself.

  Movement to her right caught her attention.

  She shuddered and snapped around for a better look past a cluster of trees.

  A shadow flittered between the trunks several yards away. Something huge leaped on all fours, black as ink. The wolf-like creature unleashed a deathly howl. A dozen others followed, and they were coming her way.

  A strangled cry escaped her throat. Her fingernails bit into the fleshy part of her palms as she clenched her hands. “God, please no.” She wanted to go back and leave this Hell, the deathly heat, the mutts that would rip her to shreds in seconds.

  Without another thought, she spun and bolted in the opposite direction. Where was she going to go? Didn’t matter. Only running from the monsters mattered.

  “Cyra.” Her name whispered on the wind again and again.

  She glanced back to see the shapes gaining speed, their growls piercing. Her breaths raced frantically. This wasn’t how she wanted to die, not being chomped down by hellhounds. Not in a billion years.

  “Cyra!” The male voice grew louder, deeper.

  Up ahead, a white rope dangled down from a gigantic oak barren of leaves. Any other time, she’d steer clear of anything resembling a noose, but today wasn’t that day.

  She flung herself toward the lifeline because there was no other option for escape. The second she grasped it with both hands, it wrenched her upward. But not before something sharp snagged her pants and leg, burning her calf like boiling water. It tugged her back down from sheer weight. She yelped, rocking to shake it loose. “Get off!”

  A monster with wire-like fur had a fang hooked into her pants, ripping fabric and flesh as it slid down. Fear collected in her chest and the excruciating pain shuddered through her.

  Her grip slackened. No!

  She’d end up as the mutt’s dinner, so she kicked the beast in the snout with her free leg, dislodging it.

  The rope heaved her up so fast, her head spun.

  Above in the fire-streaked sky was a gaping black hole, through which the cord dangled. Her brain hurt too much to make sense of the scene. The hounds beneath jumped up, stretching their long snouts to reach for her legs. One even scaled a tree. She drew her knees higher, crying out with terror.

  With a last glance, she spied an open landscape in the distance with an enormous charred castle atop a burning mountain, and below, forests and red rivers snaked throughout the land. Oh shit! This was Hell, wasn’t it?

  On her next breath, she hit a solid floor, a familiar coldness folding around her.

  Someone touched her shoulder. She flinched, her fists flying outward, and she scrambled backward as her sight adjusted to the dark surroundings. The hole she’d come out of no longer existed. She jerked her vision left and right, unsure what was real and what was in her mind.

  Gunn kneeled in front of her, concern marring his perfect brow, his lasso in hand. He guided a strand of hair stuck to her lips back to the side of her face and pulled her into an embrace, his arms shaking. “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t ever go anywhere alone. If I lost you…”

  “You were terrified?” She pushed herself free. “Did you see that place?” Her words trembled, and she stared down at her arms. She patted her legs, wincing from the stinging pain at the wound on her leg. Her pants had been torn from the knee down, and blood rolled down freely. “Freakin’ hellhound almost made me its dinner.” And had ruined her only business pants.

  She wiped the wound with the ripped part of her pants, but blood kept bubbling.

  “Got to get that clean to avoid demonic parasites entering your system.” Gunn pulled a vial of what she guessed was holy water from his belt and splashed her wound. It stung like hell, but there was no burning skin, so that was a good sign.

  As Gunn sat back on his heels, he focused on Cyra, his jawline twitching. But when a black mist rose up from a corner of the room, she scrambled farther back, dread wrapping around her.

  In a flash, the miasma snapped across the room, over their heads, and out the door.

  “Shit!” Gunn jumped to his feet and sprinted after the strange apparition.

  Shock ricocheted up her spine. Was it the demon that had shoved her into Hell or something else had escaped the portal?

  Staggering down the stairs, she limped along the long corridor, leaving a small trail of dotted blood, while the bedroom doors opening and shutting as if applauding the show.

  “Gunn?” She hurried downstairs. At the landing, she gasped for air. “Where are you?”

  Footfalls came from an adjacent room, and her insides pulled taut. They all had to leave this house. It wasn’t safe. She sucked in each breath, unable to fill her lungs. But when Gunn appeared from around a corner, a loud breath gushed out.

  “Fucker is gone,” he said. “No idea where it went.”

  That thought alone had her trembling. Sure, being brave sounded easy in her mind, but she’d just visited Hell, so if the demon in the attic had done that to her, what else was it capable of?

  Gunn snatched her elbow and drew her away from the living room. He headed toward the still-open front door, which revealed a snow-covered street. White flakes dropped over the landscape… yet her insides twisted into knots. A dog barked in the distance and she flinched, inching closer to Gunn. And there, across the lawn, her sights settled on an old tree, warped and similar to the ones she’d seen with the hellhounds. Her breaths raced.

  The memories scalded her mind, and her heart hammered inside her chest. Sickness rose in her throat.

  “We’re dealing with major demonic shit here,” Gunn said, wrapping an arm around her waist, holding her, yet his body remained rigid, and, for the first time, she sensed fear from the guy. “Got to say, baby girl, never heard of anyone getting transported into Hell before.”

  “You’re not making me feel any better.” Those were the worst words he could have said to her. Being the first drawn into the Underworld wasn’t good in any way. And right then her brea
kfast decided to make a show. She dashed outside and decorated Henry’s lawn with the contents of her stomach.

  Chapter 5

  Gunn

  When Gunn had received a call from Chase earlier that morning, he’d jumped at the idea of checking up on Cyra. He pictured getting a moment alone with her for a real conversation. Finding out what she loved to eat for breakfast, if she was an early riser, what her favorite book was. He craved to learn more about her. Anything other than just the snippets of information he’d gained from her brother. He wanted to watch a comedy with her and hear her laugh. The small things in a relationship he’d missed over the years. Something about Cyra made him want to create those moments together with her. That was as far as his thoughts had extended, but now he felt as if a noose was tightening around his neck—the pressure to save everyone. The usual routine of eliminating demons passed in a blur in his mind, and instead, his head bellowed at him about how close he’d come to losing Cyra. Panic throttled his lungs at how fast the danger had spiraled out of control. What if he hadn’t followed her upstairs? Would she be gone forever? And the fault would be his, as he was the experienced demon handler on the scene.

  Who knew what she’d come in contact with while in Hell, so after he finished the job at this house, he’d cleanse her thoroughly to be safe.

  A loud gasp had Gunn snapping around in the doorway, his pulse skyrocketing. The older woman stood near the staircase, her attention fastened on Cyra as she strolled back inside, wiping her mouth. “You’re bleeding, my dear,” Nora said, pointing to her leg.

  Cyra glanced down at the blood running down her calf and into her boot. “It’s nothing.” She wiped the stain with the loose fabric of her pants. “I’ll be fine.”

  “No, no. It can get infected,” Nora said. “Come. I’ve got bandages in the bathroom.”

  Gunn couldn’t agree more on getting her patched up and then all three of them needed to vacate the house. “Leave it to me,” he said. “I’ll care for her wound.” He approached Nora, who backed away as if he were the danger. She couldn’t be more wrong. “Please pack a bag for Henry and yourself. You two will have to leave for the night, as this will take us longer than expected.”

  Nora frowned, yet she dropped her gaze. Yep, he recognized the look. They were in the rich district, and he’d just asked the woman to depart her house and leave her residence filled with expensive artifacts in the hands of strangers. A biker, no less, who’d already torn up her front lawn. Well, if they wanted to avoid demonic possession, they’d have to trust him. Otherwise, he’d be forced to lay out the raw truth… Something he’d prefer to avoid. Scaring people wasn’t how he handled such situations.

  Her mouth opened with what he guessed was a protest, but he jumped in first. “It’s for your own safety. Now hurry.” He turned to Cyra, who was bent over, patting her bleeding injury. “Cyra, you’re with me.”

  She looked up with an arched brow, yet, to his surprise, without a word, she marched past him and down the hallway.

  When he caught up with her as she walked into the bathroom, she was shaking her head. “You didn’t have to be so direct with Nora. She’s already scared and confused.”

  Gunn shut the door behind them, not wanting their conversation to reach the old couple. “Better they’re scared enough to leave than they stay and something worse happens.”

  Cyra unzipped her leather jacket, shook it off her shoulders, and placed it on the counter before leaning over the sink and splashing her face. She then gargled mouthwash she’d found near the mirror. Probably to clean the taste of vomit from her earlier puke. Without a word, she walked across the five-by-five room and sat on the edge of the tub. The white button-up shirt she wore had frills at her wrist and dipped to reveal gorgeous cleavage.

  He took off his jacket, feeling stifled and hot in the bathroom. Dumping it next to hers, he rummaged through a cabinet crammed with toothpaste, toothbrushes, and soaps still in their packages. He grabbed disinfectant cream along with a packet of bandages.

  “Did you see her shaking?” Cyra continued. “And I wouldn’t leave a stranger in my house. Hell, no!”

  After wetting the hand towel, he closed the distance between them.

  She had her injured leg propped up on the ledge of the tub as she pushed back the torn fabric around her calf.

  “I needed them to go. And you with them. I don’t mean to sound harsh, but this is a life-or-death situation.”

  Cyra stiffened and if her gaze could spear Gunn, he’d be pinned to the door by now.

  “I’m not leaving. This is my mission.” Her clipped tone told him it wasn’t a topic she’d back down from, but did he expect anything different? Didn’t mean he’d let her stay. The job had just switched over to his level of experience, which meant he called the shots.

  “If I had lost you in that Hell pit, your brother would have skinned me alive,” he said.

  Cyra’s shoulders squared and her nose wrinkled in a defiant way, but he was up for the challenge. “Well, don’t worry about me,” she said. “You can sleep well knowing you haven’t upset Chase.”

  Her snarkiness fired something inside his chest. She cared for him. Otherwise, why would she fret over him protecting her? But, in fact, he’d taken this task on himself to spend time with Cyra. To ensure she stayed safe for his own sanity. And thank fuck he had come before she ended up as hellhound food. In the attic, he’d only seen blackness in the portal, but he’d thrown a rope he’d found in storage, ready to jump in when he’d felt a tug. He’d prayed it was Cyra… Yeah, he’d taken one hell of a risk, but it had paid off. And he’d do it again if need be.

  He kneeled next to her and dabbed the towel on her injury. Then he grabbed another vial of holy water from his belt. He carried three on him at all times. And he’d already used one and was about to use his second, so he might need to pop out and stock up on supplies from his bike. He poured the contents over the wound and noted no reaction. The good news was there was no infection or possession yet. “Sorry to say this, but the situation here is out of your league. It’s about vanquishing the bastards, closing up the portal, not cleansing spells that make everyone feel dandy.”

  She scowled, seized the disinfectant tube from his hand and squeezed huge blobs across the three-scratch marks on her leg. She hissed from the sting, her face tightening. “I’ve been casting since I was eight,” she said through her teeth. With haste, she lathered on the cream, turning her skin into a pink paste as the cream merged with blood.

  “I’m not saying you’re not an incredible witch. I believe it, but Argos was wrong about this mission. No simple haunting here. And that means I’ll be calling a friend to join me so we can shut down the demonic circus setting up home in these folks’ house. Argos won’t blame you, baby cheeks. Don’t worry.”

  Using the damp towel, he wiped her calf and attached the first bandage to her injury, followed by two more, with a final one across them in what looked like a tic-tac-toe board.

  She lifted her head, avoiding his stare, but he saw the light quiver of her chin. This job meant so much to her, and leaving terrified her that she’d lose the chance to work at Argos.

  Determination fired her up, that was clear, along with a need to prove herself. But why? All he’d heard from Chase was how much he cared about and loved his sister. How he’d promised his parents he’d always look out for Cyra. Gunn would give anything to have someone like that in his life, yet she resisted Gunn. He had to get through to her and, if that meant being a little more blunt with her to convince her, he’d do whatever it took.

  So he changed topics. “If I hadn’t been asked to come check on you today, what would you be doing right now?”

  The surprise on her face had her eyes widening, but she glanced away nonchalantly, as if not trusting his intentions. “What would you be doing?” she countered.

  Her response told him so much. Like how arguing with him was easier than admitting her feelings. The way she stared at him when she tho
ught he wasn’t looking hadn’t gone unnoticed by him, but for weeks he’d debated whether to make a move or not. His brain had always won in the end, but today he couldn’t walk away. He had to know if what he felt was real.

  His decision would probably bite him in the ass because enjoying her company would only make her attractiveness harder to resist, and he told himself over and over he had to resist. Except, in her company, he felt liberated, not trapped by fucked-up crap from his past. She made him forget everything.

  Her gorgeous eyes encased by long, dark lashes studied him… Right. She was waiting for his response. “I’d be fighting the crowds to buy my last-minute gifts. Your turn.”

  “I’d be cleansing this house, probably trapped in Hell.” She huffed.

  “Lucky I came then.” He cocked a brow and offered her a wide smirk.

  “So...” she continued, dropping her leg and easing her posture, clearly not wanting to admit I saved her life. While he ought to get out and make sure Henry and Nora had left the house, he couldn’t tear himself away from her side. Just a few more seconds.

  “I hear you’ve been working at Argos for five years,” she said, leaning closer, the wisps of her soft hair stroking his forearm. “You haven’t gotten bored doing the same job?” She might have asked a mundane question, but the purring behind her words changed the mood in the room. Her new approach excited him. It was like she’d finally dropped her defenses, and he couldn’t be more surprised and ecstatic. Guess almost dying does that to someone.

  “How can I get sick of kicking demon butt and keeping the streets clean? I’ll do this for the next forty years.” He paused, his fingers sliding over her hand, and her breath hitched. “I’d thought about leaving the industry, getting a normal person’s job, but how can I ignore the truth about what lurks in the shadows?” That Pandora’s box lay smashed open with no way of putting the crazies back inside. “What about you? Do you plan to continue working at Argos, or is it a temporary gig?”