Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy) (12 page)

“I’ll deal with it.” I rolled my eyes. “And you’ll call off your dogs. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” He flashed that smug grin, the mayor back to being a dick.

I turned my back on him and shoved the paper in my pocket. This was the last round of bullshit I needed, but as errands went, brushing off the mayor’s tweener fucktoy shouldn’t be too difficult. And maybe if I was lucky, I’d find some leads along the way that would help me track down where this drug was coming from.

I
wasn’t
ready to deal with Boyd’s side piece yet, so I just headed home, needing Bryony in my arms for a little while. I’d deal with the chick tomorrow sometime.

I strode through the front door, anxious to see Bry and see where Jezze was on her research. I found the witch pacing the living room, nose in a book, while Momma R gently rocked my son in a rocking chair. It was such a contrast, purity and the woman who scared even On High.

“Got something?”

Jezze spun toward me eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. She stabbed at a page. “I think I’ve found a spell that’ll help. It’s archaic, not something I ever would have thought of on my own. I don’t think it’ll do anything for the humans, but at the very least, it’ll reduce tween symptoms.”

I looked over at Bry, face still flushed with illness. “Get it done.”

“I need some supplies. Is the Crazy Cauldron still open?”

I snorted. “Tell Agatha it’s for me and she
will be
open.”

“On it.” Jezebeth dropped the book and snatched her keys from the end table before racing from the house.

Or she would have, except she slammed into Sam on the front porch. Literally. She stumbled back a step and stared at him for a moment before glancing at me. I read the question in her eyes even if the rest of her expression remained neutral.

Did I want to be left alone with him? Just me, Momma R, and Bry with a fallen?

I locked eyes with Sam. “Go, Jezze, we’re good here.”

“All right.” She skirted around Sam and bolted, leaving us alone.

I stared at him, his dark hair and red eyes, his pale skin and rough jaw. I could still taste the kiss we’d shared, the taste of him on my tongue. I resisted the urge to let my eyes roam over his body, though I couldn’t help a quick, hungry glance at his cock. I swallowed the whimper of need that tried to rise and instead looked away. “What’s up?”

He stepped into the foyer, nudging the door shut behind him. Those two steps had him filling the space, surrounding me with his mere presence. “I received a message.”

My eyebrows shot up. “From who?”

Sam licked his lips, taunting me, and I really wished he wouldn’t do that. It’d been nothing but my hand since we were last together. I hadn’t been boned in a
year
. “A representative from On High.”

I twitched, a shockwave shooting through me and it left me stunned. I’d given up on the powers from above having jack shit to do with the lowly peons in the tween. It always seemed like the cloud surfers wanted tweeners to deal with their own shit.

Which was seriously unfair.

What was the whole point of being worshipped if he wasn’t gonna deliver when he was needed most? Am I right? That was just one of the reasons why I never so much as paid lip service to the old fart.

Besides, we had to be enemies merely because he was On High and my uncle ruled Hell. It was loyalty-hate.

“A representative?” I ran my hands up and down my arms, a sudden chill making goosebumps freckle my skin. “And they sent you to fetch me?”

“Not… exactly.”

“Then what… exactly?”

Sam leaned back against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest and gaze on the floor between his feet. Unsure. Uneasy. And that had me feeling the same way, my wolf picking up on my mate’s distress.

“I felt the summons. He wants to meet with me and I…” He sighed, running a hand through his long hair. “I didn’t feel like I could meet with him alone.

“Aaah.” That kind of exactly. I looked down at my feet, tucking my hands in my back pockets as I rocked back on my heels. It made sense. Sam wouldn’t be too keen on meeting with one of his old comrades now that he was a fallen. “When and where?”

“Now,” he held out his hand, palm up. “I’ll take you there.”

I hesitated but pushed past my unease and took his hand. I quickly called out to Momma R, letting her know I had to go, and she promised to keep an eye on Bry.

So. Now we’d go.

I figured we might fly, Sam pulling me into his arms and spiriting us through the clouds. But… not so much. We took my car instead, the hunk of metal grumbling along down the streets. I followed his directions, our destination one of the older, remote graveyards on the edge of town.

I climbed out first, Sam soon following, and the quiet of night enveloped me. The moonlit tombstones looked like hulking beasts, goblins and dwarfs crouching and waiting to pounce. A warm wind blew over the stones, whistling through the scattered marble and shoving the scent of old moss and decay forward. It seemed like an auspicious place for a meeting though I understood why the rep from On High had chosen it. It represented the boundary between life and death. The ground was consecrated, yet it bore an undeniable link to the forces of death in Hell. It was about as close as they could get to neutral grounds.

We picked our way across the graveyard, dim moon lighting the way, until we spotted the representative standing before one of the larger mausoleums. We changed our direction, the moon at his back and framing him in the ethereal light.

Was there an angel of dramatics?

He was tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular chest. Flying with those massive wings had to give a guy a workout. He wore a light, long coat, a shirt of chainmail somewhere beneath it, and clutched a glimmering sword in his hand. Prepared for battle then. He changed his grip on the blessed weapon and drew a single line across the ground in front of us. The light from the blade flashed as it fed the furrow with a tendril of divine energy.

We stopped before the line, not daring to attempt crossing it. I knew a Hellborne creation and a fallen angel wouldn’t be able to take one step over that mark.

Apparently the gel didn’t quite trust us.

Weird.

“Samkiel.” The gel gave Sam a nod.

“Gabriel.” Sam raised his chin.

I raised my eyebrows, attention bouncing between the two men. I hadn’t really expected the messenger from On High to be
the
messenger. This was the guy who’d had to break it to the Virgin that she was knocked up without the sexual benefits. Personally, I woulda been pissed, but what are ya gonna do?

Gabriel wasn’t exactly someone sent down with a note that the milk was about to go sour. It looked like maybe On High was taking the situation seriously after all. Aw, I might have to take all of my evil thoughts back.

Fuck it. I wouldn’t.

“Okay, Gabe, darling.” I stared him down like I wasn’t at all impressed. And I wasn’t. Not
really
. I wasn’t gonna fangirl the hottie. “You got something you can do for us?”

“I come bearing an offer of aid.” Gabriel’s voice boomed.

“Right,” I popped my ears. “Turn the volume down a smidge.” I shook my head. “It’s about damn time On High got off his ass. Maybe he can clean the drugs out of the water?”

The gel shook his head. “Our Lord cannot interfere directly.”

“Typical.” I rolled my eyes. “They rocked the water into wine show. Back in the day, He never hesitated to rain down fire and brimstone. And the plague! He got cranky and it was all forty days of raining. But when we need help, it’s all ‘I can’t violate the Prime Directive.’”

A confused frown fell over the gel’s features and I didn’t care to explain it to him. The winged ones needed to spend a little less time tattling on mortals and more time keeping up with pop culture.

“So, why are you here?” I propped my hands on my hips.

Gabriel ignored me and looked to Sam. “True angels are limited in our ability to meddle in mortal affairs.” I opened my mouth, ready to thank Captain Obvious, but he kept speaking. “You are fallen.”

I glared at the angel and Sam just lowered his eyes in… shame. Fuck no. Just…
Fuck. No.
“So, what? Just because he’s already dirty, you figure it doesn’t hurt to do a little more? Do you know what he sacrificed? It wasn’t like he pledged allegiance to Satan’s flag! He saved—“

“Silence your tongue, spawn of Satan,” Gabriel snapped.

“Technically, I’m the spawn of his sister.”

He opened his mouth and then clicked it closed again, apparently unable to conjure up a decent comeback. Score one for evil.

Gabriel ignored me and looked at my mate again. “For the duration of this situation, a measure of your grace shall be returned. You may use it to bless and cleanse those humans who have been infected by this tainted substance.”

“Great,” I clapped my hands and rubbed my palms together. I flashed Sam a smile, though he kept his head hanging. I really thought he’d be a little happier. “We can fix all the humans—“

“Not all of them,” Gabriel interrupted.

Sam’s head shot up. “What? Why not?”

“Those that are too far gone, you may not touch.” He planted the tip of his sword in the ground and folded his hands over the pommel. “Those that have only suffered illness and hallucination may be cleansed. Those that engage in violence and murder may not.”

“What? I call bullshit! They were violent because of the drug.”

That earned me a cold stare and I wondered if On High’s messenger had a little bit of fallen creeping in on him. “Not all who were infected walked down the path of violence. Those that did already had darkness in their souls.”

“So fuck you very much, then? Is that what you’re saying?” I glared at all that purity and light. “They weren’t perfect little believers so send them all down to Uncle Luc.”

The angel raised his chin, pulling his eyes from mine. “They may seek redemption. It is not our place to bestow it on them if they have not earned forgiveness.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Sam cut me off. “It’s free will, Caith.”

Even if I hated what he was saying, I liked hearing my name from his lips.

I snapped my mouth shut, scowling at Gabriel. I’d never really gotten how On High operated. Sure, maybe on some level those people made a choice, they had free will. But when they were stoned on some demon drug, it wasn’t like they were in their right minds. It seemed massively unfair to deny them the same cleansing and redemption as everyone else. Didn’t demon manipulation count for anything?

I sighed. I supposed it wasn’t my business though. Maybe it was just part of the whole “free will” shtick.

“Go,” Gabriel spoke again. “Consider this your own penance, Samkiel.”

Between one heartbeat and the next, the angel vanished. Where he had once stood was nothing but dancing mots of dust in soft beams of moonlight.

I looked at Sam, at his slumped shoulders. No doubt he struggled beneath the burden of the task he’d been given. And I… didn’t know what to say to him. I wanted to reach out, to touch and hold him.

But it wouldn’t stop there, would it? It’d end with us coming together—fucking, making love—and I didn’t think that would help his case with On High.

So, as much as I wanted him, as much as I craved his touch, I took a step back. I pushed aside my selfish, asshole nature, and put space between us. “Let’s go. We dropped most of those juiced boys off at a clinic. We can start there.”

Sam nodded and we headed to the car. It was time to find the people who needed his help. I still didn’t think it was fair that he couldn’t help
all
of them, but it wasn’t up to me.

Though, if I ever got a chance to see
Him
up close and personal, we were going to have a come to Jesus—wait, he already had Jesus so that saying didn’t really apply. Dammit.

We were going to have words. Strong, big, ass-kicking words.

T
he second day
at the clinics and it seemed like Sam would take two steps forward and one back. For every human he cured, more would come pouring in. The doctors and nurses treated them like drug addicts and poison victims; pumping stomachs and fighting to get the nastiness out of their blood.

We both knew there was nothing human medicine could do for these people. They needed divine intervention—they needed Sam.

My mate hesitated in the doorway of the patient’s room, the first of many we’d visit. I touched his back, offering silent support, but this was something he had to do on his own. He’d once been a true gel, a servant of On High. He needed to remember how to be that man.

He walked into the room, lowering himself into the chair beside the bed. The teen didn’t even look at him, but Sam spoke softly anyway. He offered the boy solace and support and even if the kid kept his gaze turned away, I could tell he was listening to Sam’s every word.

But he didn’t preach. He didn’t caution about fire and brimstone like I’d heard from other religious leaders. Sure, everyone had their own style when spreading On High’s message, but Sam’s was… real.

He’d been further down a dark path than this kid could imagine and he spoke from the heart when he told the kid that even if he didn’t think God had listened in the past, he was listening now.

The kid sneered at him. “It doesn’t make a difference, man. Nothing you say can do shit.”

“But I can.” Sam touched his thumb to the kid’s forehead.

A slight shimmer of light enveloped them both, an almost imperceptible glow. It was enough to make the kid gasp and shudder, his back arching while he stared at the ceiling with a vacant look. Like he saw something we didn’t, and I knew he was getting a glimpse at the good guy.

The boy heaved in a harsh breath and thumped back to the hospital bed, turning teary eyes on Sam. “What was that?”

My mate, the one I’d lost to evil, quirked his lips in a soft smile. “A miracle.”

A miracle in more ways than one.

“You have a choice when you walk out of here. Return to the streets—drugs and violence—and you’ll be on your own next time. This is a clean slate. Keep it that way, huh?”

The boy still wasn’t talking, tears still staining his cheeks, and Sam walked out. I hung back, watching the teen for a long moment, wondering what it was like to feel On High’s grace like that. It wasn’t like I’d ever find out. On High would hate me if He was capable of hate, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to choose the path that would put me in his sights.

But maybe this kid could swing it—keep his nose clean and meet the big guy. Maybe.

We spent the rest of the day at the clinic, me at Sam’s side while he helped—sometimes didn’t—everyone. I felt useless, doing nothing but leaning against the wall while he exhausted himself. I had no idea how he did it all without going crazy, telling these guys to choose the path to On High when he’d actually stepped off that road last year. But with each person he cleansed, some of the weight that dragged down his shoulders seemed to lift. He found solace in the knowledge that he could still do some good in the world.

Of course. Even as a fallen angel, he was a better person than me.

We hit every location with a large number of addicts and infected, so Sam could work his divine magic. (Okay, not
magic
magic, but I liked that it annoyed him when I called his divine grace
magic
.) We went out again the next day, as well. Curing more people while leaving Jezze working on her possible cure for tweens.

FYI, I thought On High was an asshole for not extending this cleansing shit to tweeners, but whatever.

I poked and prodded those that Sam cleansed, trying to find other leads on the drug. Near the end of the second day, we came across a kid who was more stubborn than the others. I’d gotten used to seeing Sam and those he helped fall into a fairly standard script. Denial, surprise, grateful. Not that it was monotonous or anything. It totally was and it wasn’t just because I have this anti-On High thing in my blood. It was just the same thing over and over. I told him to spice it up a little. Maybe let me call on some hellfire and show them where they’d end up if they didn’t accept On High in their hearts already.

I thought it’d be hilarious. He did not laugh with me.

But this one kid at the last hospital… He seemed to have a chip on his shoulder.

“Fuck. You.” He jutted out his chin as he pulled on his Barbour olive wax jacket. He might’ve been more intimidating if his coat didn’t cost four hundred bucks and he wasn’t tugging it over a Brooks Brothers button-down.

Preppy asshole, party of one.

“Son,” Sam’s voice remained calm and soothing. I would have just junk punched the asshole. “I’m offering you—“

“I don’t need any help from some Jesus freak. You don’t know me. You don’t know my life.”

He headed for the door and Sam moved to follow him. “You don’t understand. You’re not just risking your life, but your eternal soul.”

The kid flipped Sam off, middle finger raised high, and I was tempted to snap it off. “I know where my soul is going. I don’t need to hear about it from you.”

I watched the kid walk off and I couldn’t throw the sense that something was… off. He’d rubbed me the wrong way and not just because he ordered from the J. Crew catalog.

Sam shook his head. “Some are beyond redemption.”

“Maybe.” I tilted my head, the kid striding through the automatic doors. “There’s something else with that one.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “He didn’t sound like the victim type or a jonesing user. More like…” I frowned and then opened my eyes widely. “Like a dealer.”

Sam and I shared a significant glance.

“Let’s go. Maybe he knows about the source.” But something in my gut told me it was more than maybe.

We tailed the kid through the city streets, following his shiny Mercedes, and I was kinda gratified to see that it was a few years old. Mommy and Daddy hadn’t spoiled him entirely. Sam and I kept far back enough to be out of sight and it helped that my wolf could follow the boy’s scent. It was powerful and strong enough to catalog the nuances of the teen and his car’s aroma. Before long, the trail led us to a rundown old house in a pretty beat-up neighborhood, the kid pulling his shiny car into a garage that’d seen better days.

We parked on the road and watched the house from our spot across the street, searching for signs of anyone else inside. As far as I could tell, by sight and scent, it was empty save the teen.

“Let’s see what pretty boy’s hiding.” I climbed from my car, nudging the door closed before heading across the street. Sam was a warm presence at my back. Even with some of his grace returned, he still held the warmth of Hell.

I didn’t bother knocking, just slammed my boot heel into the lock and smashed the door in. In this kinda neighborhood, people really should have better security. Unfortunately, there was no one in the room to appreciate my dramatic entrance. That didn’t mean the rest of the house was empty. I stayed on alert, hating my werewolf nature when the house’s scents crept into my nose. The living room looked a lot like Jacob’s: beer bottles, take out containers, and baggies marked with the dem rune littering the place. The place reeked of decaying food and I breathed through my mouth.

Na-sty
.

“Where’d he go?” We moved through the house, checking rooms and peeking into spaces, but came up empty, finally meeting again in the living room. “There’s no one here.”

I headed into the kitchen, looking for any other signs, and what I found there was a lot more disturbing than the filth that surrounded us.

“Shit,” I rasped.

“What is it?” Sam followed me into the room and stopped short at my back. “Fuck.”

Apparently mostly fallen gels with a little bit of grace could still curse. Fun.

Me? I stared at the ground, hating life. A pentagram drawn in blood stained the center of the kitchen floor, the red liquid dry and aged to a dark burgundy. Black candles marked each point of the star, a few still smoking as if they’d been quickly snuffed. I crouched and reached out, letting my fingers drift through the rivers of magic that surrounded the dark circle.

This was my kind of magic, the kind that was used to summon demons from hell. My ceremonies tended to be a little more lighthearted, but I had Satan’s blood in my veins. This was what humans had to deal with.

“We’re inside the city limits. Would this sort of magic work with your ban in place?”

I pulled my hand back and pushed to my feet. “I’m not sure.” Technically, I kept the dems out of Orlando with a sort of magical force field. The kind that the ships from Star Trek might have used, but I refused to admit my secretly trekkie status. It blocked them from crossing the city’s boundaries. Which meant that theoretically, someone might be able to use a summoning spell to circumvent that since the demon wouldn’t technically cross a border.

Which was a big old fuck up on my part.

If nothing else, this could explain how a demon could have made a move on Orlando despite my ban.

I searched through the kitchen and found a nasty, dirt-crusted bucket. Good enough to do the job. It didn’t take long to fill it and then dump the contents over the pentagram. It wouldn’t do much to stop the teen if he was determined, but it’d annoy him, which made me happy.

We searched the rest of the house, finding nothing more than an open window in the back bathroom. It looked like the guy had spotted us and fled. I followed the kid’s path, trying to pick up his scent, but the smells were too strong to sort through. There was too much crowding the air and I shook my head.

Preppy boy got away. For now.

Frustrated and annoyed, we headed back to Momma R’s. I thrummed with the need to get to Bry, my hands itching to hold him in my arms, and I couldn’t resist the pull to go to him. When we got there, we found a tall, wiry-limbed fairy corralled by Jezze and Momma R. His bright pink hair stood on end, his eyes bugged wide, and I wondered if one of them had just given the guy an electric jolt.

Momma R held out a cup of tea and he eyed it warily. He leaned farther away when she tried to shove it in his hands. “You sure this is safe?”

Jezebeth and her mom exchanged a look and Jezze spoke. “Of course, absolutely safe.”

Good thing Jezze wasn’t human. On High didn’t like liars. I suppressed my snort. If the cure Jezze was working on was really safe, they would have given it to Bryony instead of finding another tween to test it on. But I kept my mouth shut. If the cure turned the fairy into a newt or made him explode, I’d rather find that out before we gave it to Bry.

Though, I felt marginally sad if he got really hurt. Marginally. Damn dads and their good hearts.

The fairy took the tea and sipped it, staring at us over the rim the whole time. His hands shook and I wasn’t sure if it was because of nervousness or the infection. He kept drinking though, swallowing it down before stumbling back onto the couch and almost immediately falling asleep.

I padded forward and stared down at the guy, looking for any color change or shift in shape. If he went
poof
, I could hop up the stairs and shower dead fairy off of me.

“Is that supposed to happen?” I refrained from poking him.

Momma R placed the back of her hand on the guy’s forehead. “The recipe includes a mild sedative.”

“NyQuil,” Jezze supplied and I arched a brow at her. She just shrugged. “Sometimes good, old-fashioned human medicine is a good shortcut in a magic potion. Whatever works, right? Human medicine and mystical ingredients sometimes jive and give us a better result.”

“We’ll have to observe him.” Momma R dabbed at his face with a wet rag. “Make sure the fever goes down and he’s not suffering any hallucinations when he wakes up.”

I nodded. “Let me know.”

The itch to see my kid still plagued me and I glanced at Sam, wondering if he wanted to visit Bry, too. He’d fallen because of Bry. Did he want to… But it was as if my mate read my mind and he merely shook his head. Right. Fallen angel, sick innocent. Not a good combo.

So I headed upstairs—alone—to check on him. I moved into the room, my steps silent. “Hey, kiddo.” I peered into his crib, his sleep still restless. “Tempmomma is gonna have you better real soon, okay? Auntie Jezze and Momma R are working on it and you’re gonna be just fine.”

I wouldn’t allow for any other result.

I reached in and stroked his tiny nose. He was so small, so weak. I brushed his hair off his face and the demon mark on his arm caught my eye. The sight of it made my gut twist into a knot. Hopefully Jezze’s potion would cure Bry, but I had the feeling it would be a good treatment, but wouldn’t purge it from his system. The demonic influence would remain and I needed to track down the source and put a stop to it once and for all.

“You’re gonna be okay.” I leaned down, kissed his forehead, and then tucked him in before heading back downstairs.

Back in the living room, I glanced at the sleeping fairy and his presence teased my mind, reminding me I still had another errand to run. Dammit. “I’ll be back,” I told Jezze. “If that works,” I gestured at the empty tea cup, “there’s someone else I need to give it to before we try it on Bry.”

Jezebeth gave me a confused frown but didn’t ask. That was the joy of best friends—unbreakable trust.

“Do you need help?” Sam stepped out of the shadows.

I studied him for a moment, thinking about how nice it’d been to have him around the last couple of days. Almost like we were an old married couple, comfortable with each other without the sex. I’d even gotten to the point that I could be in his presence without thinking about jumping his bones every five minutes. It was every fifteen now.

But this was something he couldn’t really help with.

“No,” I shook my head. He couldn’t do this, but I… I decided to put some trust in him—in this new version of him. “Stay here. Keep an eye on things and protect.” I swallowed hard. I needed the man I loved to care for the boy I lived for. “Take care of him. I won’t be long.”