Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy) (15 page)

They didn’t let him get any further. Three rushed him, and Sam met them with raised fists. I managed to clock one in the shoulder with my baton before two more came at me from the other side. One got a kick to the ribs, knocking him back into the wall. He slammed into the sheetrock, leaving a dent in his wake. The other reached for my titanium club, hands tugging and fighting to snatch it from me. While his hands were occupied, I took one step closer into his personal space and kneed him in the groin. I tried to shove his balls up to his throat, showing him it wasn’t nice to try and steal toys from other kids. He staggered back, clutching his dick and wheezing. Him being bent over made it easy for me to whack the baton across his face. Blood and bits of white went flying.

Yay, teeth!

I’d have to remember to gather them up for the tooth fairy. She was an actual fairy, but a bit cannibalistic. She only ate teeth though.

I took down a few more, baton coming in handy, resorting to fists if I felt like having a little fun. Bones were breaking, moans filling the air, and I really liked hearing those high-pitched whines.

I grinned, happy with my work, and glanced around to find Sam. He pummeled one poor guy into the ground, his arm rising and falling in a measured rhythm. His eyes blazed red—brighter than ever before—and his teeth were clenched in rage.

Shit.

I ran to him, catching his wrist before he had a chance to deliver another punch.

He whipped his head around, eyes narrowed and flashing red. “That’s enough, Sam.”

He jerked against my hold, but I held him fast. Could he break free? Yes. But he didn’t, so some part of him wanted to be stopped. When blue flames surged within his eyes, I wondered if he was going to hit me and I braced myself, ready to force him down if necessary.

His breathing came in sharp, shallow pants, our stares remaining locked, and finally the tension in his muscles fled. I waited one extra beat, making sure that his relaxation was true and not some game from his dark side. Finally, I released him and Sam took a large step back, leaving the wounded boy on the ground. I shook my head. We were going to have to call an ambulance, but I was pretty sure the guy would live.

I almost felt bad—almost—but he’d chosen this life.

I collapsed my baton and tucked it in my back pocket. I rested my hands on my hips, eyes scanning the open area, and focused on a girl cowering in the corner. I strode over, almost laughing at the way she curled into a smaller ball. As if that’d make her disappear. I grabbed her by her hair and hauled her to her feet. She squealed and struggled, but she was no match for me. I dragged her across the room to the largest ritual circle. The energy from each one called to my blood, thrumming through me, and I knew they’d been used recently.

“What is this for?” I pointed at the pentagram just in case she was such a big idiot she didn’t know what I was talking about. “Who did this?”

“I…” she whimpered. “I don’t know.”

I tightened my grip and pulled harder, exposing her vulnerable throat. I whipped out a dagger, one of my faves, and pressed it just beneath her chin. “Now, I have it on good authority that God doesn’t like liars. It’s time for the truth.” I dug the tip in, just enough to make her bleed. “There’s dark magic here and I wanna know who’s responsible. Who drew the circles? What did they summon?”

“I don’t know!” She pushed onto her tip-toes, trying to relieve the pressure. Like I’d let that happen. “We were out of it. I can’t remember anything. I can’t…”

She broke down in tears and I let her go, allowing her to fall to the ground.

Sam was off talking to a couple of other scared as shit users and it didn’t look like he was having any more luck than me. He did manage to convince a couple of less violent humans to accept his cleansing grace, but they didn’t have anything for us. It didn’t look like the supplier was in residence at the moment, but I was pretty sure he had been. None of these idiots had the knowledge or power to work this magic.

I crouched near one of the circles, studying the runes that ran along the edge. Larger symbols decorated each tip of the five-pointed star. I didn’t recognize them, but I was pretty sure they’d tell me where the circle led.

I yanked a notepad out of my back pocket and sketched out the symbols, hoping someone—ugh, probably my mother—could identify them. These types of runes were typically personalized in a way that could identify the being or destination.

Sam stood over my shoulder, studying alongside me. “There’s something strange about these.”

“Other than the fact that all we’ve found are clueless drugged out humans who don’t know what they summoned?” I pushed to my feet and tucked the notepad away.

He nodded and then held a hand over the circle. “The energy here is… different. It doesn’t feel like a normal portal to Hell.”

I frowned, staring at the circle. “Not hell? Where else is it gonna go?”

He didn’t have an answer for that one, but it gave me one more piece of the mystery. I made a metal note, hoping the information could be useful later.

One anonymous phone call to the police later, and we vacated the scene before the authorities arrived. The junkies would end up at a clinic or behind bars. Either way, they were off the streets.

And since we had more questions than answers, I decided we’d go visit my good friend Killian Howe. He’d been almost helpful before. Maybe I’d ask the right question today. No matter what, I was getting shit outta this guy.

I ignored the lesbian siren, not even looking at the temptation she presented, and strode right into his office. I slapped the notepad down on his desk. “Recognize this?”

He leaned back, small smirk in place while he tapped his fingers together.

“Right. Wrong question.” I was already glad I’d left Sam in the car. With his current state of mind, he probably would have dived after the lawyer already. I tried to think of a way to rephrase my question to get the right answers out of him. “Is someone using these circles to summon demons from Hell?”

He spread his hands. “Are you sure that’s where the circles lead?”

I nodded, acknowledging the vague answer. It tied with what Sam and I had discussed. There might be some sort of alternate dimension at work. Something only a superior being would be able to utilize. “Some someone’s summoning… something… from somewhere. Why?”

Killian shook his head. “’Why’ is a question that is meaningless in itself.”

I cocked my head and pursed my lips. “Why isn’t the question.” I stared off in the distance, thoughts rolling. “The question I need answered is ‘Who?’”

Killian didn’t say anything, but his eyes spoke for him. I was getting close. If I ever found out what sort of spell or contract was holding his tongue, I’d kill the caster so I wouldn’t have to do this back-and-forth bullshit again.

“Okay, who?” I paced back and forth in front of his desk, noting that my mother’s painting was now missing, a blank space on the wall. Heh. “It has to be some figure with enough power to influence the tween in this way. Someone who works from the shadows. Who doesn’t care who gets hurt. Sometime trying to get back at…”

Me.

A small grin spread my lips and I snapped my fingers and then pointed at Killian. “Okay, man-sized, demonic eight ball, riddle me this. Who’s the megalomaniac I damaged most by banning the dems from mouse town?”

Killian returned my grin. “Who’s tired of suppressing his power? And is this dem
only
interested in paying you back for the ban?”

He hauled me around in mental circles, but he had a point. I’d taken this personally, but it was possible there was more than I’d realized.

Was the one responsible trying to get back at me to get past my ban? Or did they have a bigger agenda and circumventing the ban was just one piece of a larger puzzle?

“All right, then.” I didn’t thank him for the half-assed information. I just walked away, right past that blank spot on the wall. Maybe I’d send the devil’s advocate one of my uncle’s paintings from when he’d been pretending to be Andy Warhol. A great big soup can painting would be pretty there.

A
letter
from City Hall waited for me when I got back to Momma R’s. I skimmed the contents and rolled my eyes at the blah, blah, blah, no wrongdoing, super sorry, and so on. It was all official and apologetic and made absolutely
no
mention of me handling Meadow for his lying cheating ass. Or getting her clean and getting her under control. Of course, Boyd couldn’t go on the record with that, but at least he’d kept his word and called off his dogs.

It saved me the trouble of stomping back to City Hall to beat the shit outta him. Admittedly, I was a little disappointed. It would have been a lot of fun to toss him out of his second-story window. What? It wasn’t like the fall woulda killed him.

I held up the letter, waving it while I spoke to Momma R. “That’s one less thing to worry about.” I tossed the folded piece of paper on the coffee table and sighed, releasing some of the worry with a roll of my shoulders.

Momma R just hummed, continuing her slow, gentle rocking of her chair. She held Bryony close, giving him comfort while I couldn’t. “Everything will work out.”

I wished I could believe her, but when Bry fussed and whined, I wasn’t so sure.

“You should get some rest. You haven’t been sleeping.”

I snorted. “I can’t rest. I’ve got a demonic conspiracy, a sick baby, a bar to reopen, a fallen angel who needs my help, and gee,” I snapped my fingers, sarcasm out in full force, “the liquor license is up for renewal, and I don’t know if I can afford it with the bar being closed so many nights in a row.”

Hypothetically (in reality) I was beginning to regret my “I’m not only kicking dems out but also not going to live off of dem-generated income.” Oh, I had the money. I was just cutting off my nose to spite my face. Each day that passed and each worry that piled on, I was super wishing I wasn’t such an asshole.

“Yes, but you’ll manage all of that a lot better with a little rest. Trust me.” She eased from the rocking chair and padded toward me. “I’m your mother.”

Yes, she was my mother—the mother of my heart. Age wasn’t a factor in our relationship. I’d outlived her by centuries, but for some reason she just… knew. Knew how to handle me, how to love me, and that was something I’d been taking for granted. I leaned forward, careful not to jostle my son, and kissed her cheek.

“Thanks, Momma,” I whispered in her ear and I got a soft kiss in return, a wave of love coming with that small connection. “You win. Me and kiddo can have naptime together.”

Maybe we’d nap until dark. I couldn’t summon my bio-mom until after nightfall. I could swing it during the day, but it took more energy. Energy I needed to stay on my toes and ready for the next round of drama.

“Good.” She handed over the little bundle of awesome. “He’s dry and had a bottle thirty minutes ago. He should be comfortable for a while.”

Plus, my kid was an awesome sleeper. It was one thing I’d been thankful for when I adopted him.

I took him upstairs to my room and we settled into bed, me on one side, Bry in the middle, and pillows on the other to keep him corralled. He snuggled in immediately, his light weight against my side. To many, I was evil incarnate. To Bry, I was simply his Tempmomma who he trusted above anyone else. It was scary as hell.

Him at my side, my body between him and the door—possible danger—I let myself drift. I let the weight of exhaustion drag me down into the river of sleep. Dreams haunted me, my fears pushing their way into my subconscious and chasing me through the shadows. They surrounded me, pushed and pulled me down a path I couldn’t see. I found myself surrounded, caught in the middle of something bigger than me, stronger than me, and the darkness kept creeping closer.

Closer and closer until…

Bry’s scream sliced through my restless sleep, jolting me awake in an instant. I reached for my weapons, always around, never forgotten. Half the time, I didn’t realize I’d disarmed until I instinctively grasped it from the end table. I scanned the room for danger, ready to behead anything that came near my baby boy. I’d kill whatever had him crying in fear… and pain.

I spied him in the middle of the room, arms flailing, his little legs carrying him toward the wall opposite the bed. The glowing wall.

I would have been proud of him for taking such strong steps, except he was heading toward the burning circle that was slowly forming on the flat surface. Demonic runes flared around the burning sphere, filling the room with a sickening red and orange light. Shadows seemed to reach out from the center, tendrils of darkness reaching for Bry. They swirled and twined, whipping out to skim his arms and his legs. Small smudges were left in their wake, each touch painting his skin grey.

“Fuck no.” I leapt from the bed and grabbed Bry, pulling him away before that darkness could get a grip on his small body. The shadows writhed and wailed, whipping through the room, but not quite reaching me. They snapped back through the circle and then a hot, sulfurous wind blew through the room. A resounding crack filled the air, ground shaking with the sound, as if the passageway had snapped shut with their retreat.

I held Bry, cradling his face against my chest in comfort—for both of us. The room was still, the circle on the wall dark. The markings remained, the only evidence of the portal’s existence. A pentagram covered with the same runes Sam and I had seen in the drug dens now stained the wallpaper. I didn’t need to check my notebook to verify they were identical.

I shuddered, unable to imagine what kind of dark horrors had been trying to take my son. Or where he would’ve ended up.

The rapid patter of feet racing through the house reached me and soon Momma R and Jezze burst into the room. Both women glowed brightly, their magic pulsing just beneath their skin. They looked ready for battle, ready to bring the pain… even if Jezze walked on her heels because she’d just painted her toes.

Both women stared at the wall, eyes wide, and Jezebeth recovered first. “What the fu—“ Momma R glared at her daughter, “fudge?”

Any other time, I would have congratulated Jezze on her save, but now wasn’t one of those times. Not when the summoning circle still smoked and smoldered, the dark stain spreading with the heat. It pulsed throughout the room, reminding me of what it’d almost accomplished.

Momma R carefully approached the smoking circle, Jezze right behind her, and I focused on Bry. He sniffled and huffed against my shoulder, uneasy and afraid. I rubbed his back, bouncing him lightly while I hugged him close and did my best to soothe him. My palms were soon covered in the black that’d stained his body, the sooty remnants of those wraith-like arms. I brought my hand to my nose, sniffing the soot. Sulfur, evil, hate… so very, very familiar.

“It’s closed.” Jezze glanced over her shoulder and Momma R nodded, agreeing with her daughter.

Yes, it was closed. Worse, however, was the knowledge that no one in the tween had created that portal. It’d been opened from the other side.