Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy) (10 page)

The demon screamed, a high-pitched screech that rattled my teeth. He held up his arms protectively as if his puny arms could protect his human…

Human.
Pink hued skin that was flush with life.

I changed my target, aiming to his right and stabbing my blade into the dirt instead. Since I didn’t get to kill him, I knocked him unconscious. That was slightly satisfying.

Two more rushed at me at the same time, tackling me to the ground. I struggled to push them off, trying to balance freedom and murder. My wolf snarled and begged to be unleashed and my mouth watered with the need to bite and taste. All I had to do was shift, show these fuckers my claws, and I’d make short work of them. I could tear them limb from limb, and bathe in their blood. The darker parts wanted me to do that. It pushed and prodded me to embrace those strings of evil. There would be nothing more liberating than unleashing my wolf on them.

But I looked in their eyes and found the same glazed look I’d seen in those affected by the demon drug. The red was there, but so was that sense of
wrongness
. Someone had dosed these people, sending them into a homicidal rage. I couldn’t kill them—unfortunately. They were innocents, and I wouldn’t have their blood on my hands.

The wolf whined. My demon complained. That desperation for violence from my warrior father struggled to bust out of its chains.

I promised those parts of me that I would
bathe
in the blood of whoever had sent them here.
Bathe
. Fill a big old Jacuzzi tub and snuggle in with a good book.

“Don’t kill them!” My voice was garbled by the wolf. I pushed one of the men off me and then clocked the other in the side of the head with my fist. “They’re juiced!”

“Great,” Jezze whined. “No snack time for the gators.”

Another pounced, trying that weird superman punch, flying through the air thing. Cool in mixed martial arts, not so cool in real life. I backhanded him, sending him flying sideways and rolling across the ground.

“When we find their boss.” I had to throw the witch a bone. We’d just drain the guy before we fed her pets.

Jezze laughed and then tossed a green bolt of magic at one of the men as he rushed her. It knocked him off his feet, sending him sliding across the gravel. By the time he stopped, scratches and scrapes marred his skin, blood staining the pale rocks.

At least she didn’t vaporize him.

Another couple joined forces and ran forward while I still grappled with another one. Dammit, too many random drugged out assholes. I kicked one in the gut before he could lay a hand on me and then got another’s neck in a headlock. I used my free hand to trade blows with another. Did another show up? What the fuck?

These assholes were strong—for humans, anyway—and they were giving me a tough time. Holding off on doing anything lethal was really harshing my buzz. No blades, no claws, no hellfire.

I wasn’t sure how many were left, but I managed to knock another out—was that number three? Or four?—while Jezze sent another flying across the lawn with another spell. But I was getting pounded hard in a not fun way and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could brawl without resorting to lethal measures. Any bruises they gave me healed instantly, but that didn’t change the fact that I needed to add some more cardio to my workout routine. These guys were almost as strong as demons, and unlike me, they weren’t pulling their punches.

A battle cry sounded from my right, and a dark figure appeared, pummeling one of the drugged humans with his fists. I caught a quick glimpse of black leather, dark hair, and red eyes before I was distracted by a baseball bat aimed at my head.

I grabbed the bat mid-swing and yanked, snatching it from the man’s hand. I shook my head. “Shouldn’t have gone with the wood.” I snapped the bat over my knee. The wood splintered and shattered, leaving me with two hunks. I clobbered his ears, knocking him to the ground. “Night, night.”

I looked to my right at another brawl taking place. “Sam!” I snarled at him, hating how much I liked watching him. “I thought I told you to get fucking lost!”

Sam glanced at me, wicked smile on his lips, between pounding his fist into a man’s face. “You looked like you needed help.”

That was my Sam—my mate. Always showing up when he thought I was in danger.

Two more rushed me. I dropped one with a roundhouse kick and then blocked the other’s fists as he came at me swinging. “When I fucking
need
help,” I jabbed a fist into a man’s throat. “I’ll fucking
tell you
I need help.”

I hated being treated like a damsel in fucking distress, but his timing couldn’t have been better. So, I let it slide.
Just
this one time.

I’d still give him shit for it so he didn’t think I was going soft.

Sam dropped an assailant to the ground and raised his fists as another rushed him, swinging a piece of Momma R’s fence as a club. I saw the hesitation in Sam’s stance, in his glowing red eyes. He could have killed one of these men with his bare hands, same as me. He wanted to. Fuck, I wanted to. He reached for the man’s throat, squeezing tightly, and for just a moment, I saw the blood lust in his blazing eyes. The desire to kill consumed him, his dark urges surging through his veins. He had a direct connection to the most unholy parts of Hell, and it fed him nothing but hate and rage.

Thing about angels—fallen or still On High—was that they didn’t rock the same kind of free will humans were given. They had rules and restrictions, some of them literally impossible to break. Others? Slap on the wrist and they’re sent on their way.

Except sex and violence. Do it and you’re done. Period. Full stop. An angel is cut off from the divine spirit, no sense of right or wrong, and an empty space in their souls that Hell can’t wait to occupy.

That was Sam now.

He managed to get it under control, to resist that pull and remove his hands from the man’s neck. But there was that moment when I was certain he was going to strangle the man to death, snuff out a human life and smile when all was said and done. It took immense effort to step away from that alluring abyss without On High’s guiding light to show him the way.

Instead of killing the human, Sam pounded him in the face until the poor guy fell onto the lawn, limp and unmoving. The guy suffered from more than one broken bone, but I saw his chest rise and fall. So, at least he was alive.

Sam stood over the last man to fall, clenching and unclenching his fists. His breath came in harsh, heaving pants, and I could see the rage and bloodlust simmering in his eyes.

I wanted to go to him. I wanted to take him in my arms (and other pink places). Hold him tightly and comfort him, tell him everything would be all right.

But I couldn’t.

And it wasn’t because my own feelings were tied in knots. This crawl to redemption and struggle out of the pit he’d plummeted into last year needed to be done alone. He had to search out the strength to control the dark urges and restrain himself from the rage that threatened to swallow him whole.

It could be done. After all, I’d managed not to murder anyone.

Today.

Though I was giving it some serious thought, and once I found the demon that controlled these humans…
That
person was dead.

He closed his eyes, breathing gradually returning to normal. When he opened them, that red glow had dimmed, just a little. No longer a raging inferno, but a simmering heat, waiting to be stoked to violence once more.

“You okay?” I retrieved my dropped sword and wiped it on the shirt of one of the unconscious men before slipping it into the sheathe across my back.

He grunted. Falling had changed him. I wasn’t sure why I thought it wouldn’t. “You?”

I glanced down at my body and tested my muscles. Bruises, but nothing my wolf couldn’t handle. “I’ll be fine.”

We dragged the unconscious men into the back shed and tied them up, securing them so they couldn’t leave. Jezze whipped up a spell so they wouldn’t bake to death in the Florida heat while they slept off the effects of the drug. I was really getting tired of hauling humans around.

Really.

The witch quietly slipped away, heading back into the house though she shot me a significant look before retreating. She also did the wiggling eyebrow thing.

I stared at the house, thinking about what it held. My total life. My future. I turned my attention to Sam. Was he part of that future. I sighed. The man
had
technically saved my ass—sort of—and
hadn’t
killed anyone even when the evil rode him.

“You want to come in?” I tipped my head toward the house.

He stared at the home for a long moment, clenching his jaw, and then turned that hard look on me, considering. Finally, he nodded.

All right, then.

I led him up the steps and pushed the back door open, leaving it wide for him.

But he paused in the doorway, lingering just outside the threshold. “You sure?”

I tucked my hands in my pockets, trying to stop myself from reaching out. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, gaze distant, features hard. I didn’t doubt that he fought other forbidden urges. Killing wasn’t the only carnal activity angels craved. Especially those that’d fallen.

Blood.
Sex.

“If you’re worried I’ll pounce and ride you like a horse, don’t be.” I forced the next lie from my lips. “I’m over you.”

My wolf whimpered, torn between anger at him for leaving and the desire to take him to bed again. He’d been my mate—my one.

Then he’d left. The wolf didn’t understand the
why
, it just knew he was
gone
.

“Not what I’m worried about.” He still refused to look at me.

I stared at him, studying the way he held himself. “I get it.” I walked over to him, solid boots thumping on the scarred wood flooring. “You think you’re going to hurt me?”

I didn’t stop until mere inches separated us. He couldn’t ignore me. I touched his chin, ignoring the heated burn that came from the direct contact of his skin. The good in me objected to the pure evil that swirled in his veins.

I forced him to turn his head and look me in the eye. No avoidance. “Sam, Samkiel,” he flinched when I said his true name. “You’re not a monster. You’re not like the others. You weren’t lured by the prospect of power by Uncle Luc. You lost your grace protecting me, saving me… Saving Bry.” That’s what I remembered most. What he’d sacrificed to save my son. “If On High can’t understand that and forgive you, maybe living in the clouds isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

His postured eased, not enough for my liking, but he wasn’t as tense as he’d been. As if some of the burden lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you.”

Heartfelt. Solid.
Sincere
. Enough that the ache of his touch eased the tiniest bit.

“Besides,” I shrugged, “it’s not like you could take me.” I grinned and winked.

Though he probably could. Eventually. The brand on my palm throbbed and I remembered the pain that’d come with his touch. We could both call on the ninth circle, but recovering from that kind of pain… Yeah.

He chuckled, lips quirking in a small grin, and it was like having the old Sam back. “Maybe.”

I ignored the “maybe” and turned away from him. “I need a fucking drink.”

I snagged a six-pack out of the fridge and clomped down the hallway, returning to the library. I tossed a beer to Jezze and then offered one to Sam. He stared at it for a long moment, frowning, and then shook his head.

“Sure? It’s clean. Papa Finn checked everything in the house.”

“I’m good.” He shook his head.

I shrugged and sucked down half my beer in one swallow and then tipped the neck at Sam. “How much do you know?”

Sam sat across from me, glancing between me and Jezze. Jezze sipped her beer, watching him watching her, and the tension slowly climbed before she cleared her throat and got up. “I’ll go check on Bry.”

That unease settled and once she was gone, I gave Sam a level look. “Well?”

“I know about the drug. I’ve been watching you.” His voice soft and I wasn’t going to accuse him of being a stalker. “Keeping an eye on things.”

“Stalking me, you mean.” Okay, maybe I was going to accuse him of stalkerdom. “Just like always.”

He shrugged and didn’t try to deny it.

“Any leads?”

“None so far.”

I told him what we knew and the work we’d been doing to narrow down the list. “One thing I can’t figure out,” I took another sip of the bitter brew. “Is what’s the purpose. So far, there’ve been a bunch of people getting sick and being dicks. But if this is some kind of takeover, they’re doing a shitty job of it. Totally lame.”

Lame was still a hip word today, right?

“Might not be so simple.”

I arched a brow in question and waited. Fallen Sam was more forthcoming than Angel Sam.

“People who take this drug willingly are doing more than getting high. There’s gluttony. They’re hurting their own souls with the excess.” He gestured to the shed. “Beyond that, they’re engaging in violence. Violence that puts their mortal souls in danger.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I thought you were done trying to save souls.”

“Just because I’ve fallen,” he gave me a heavy stare, “doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten my purpose.”

“Huh.” I generally thought that’s what being fallen meant. Though if Sam wanted to work toward redemption, this was a good way to start. “It’s kind of unfair, though. I mean, On High damning those men? Not their fault. They only got violent with the drug and they took the drug because someone pushed it on them.”

“They made a choice. Might not be fair, but free will never is.”

“On High is kind of a dick.” Yeah, life wasn’t fair, but still…

Though, I figured Sam was the expert on the subject. I had plenty of free will. I probably took it for granted, but I’d known angels to envy the freedoms humans had. Resented their ability to choose light or darkness, or wander the broad line in between.

He quirked his lips in a small grin. “Regardless, those men and others like them need help. They’ll need to be cleansed. The taint needs to be removed from their souls.”