Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy) (2 page)

“A fever or something.” Jezze’s other hand went to the dashboard. “But something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but she sounded worried, and you know what it takes to get Mom worried.”

Yeah, I did. Momma R, Helene Renard to the rest of the tween, was about as powerful a witch as they came. To the point that Uncle Luc didn’t want her and On High refused to accept her, which meant she sort lived… forever.

If there was something wrong with Bryony that Momma R couldn’t fix, it was serious. Especially since he wasn’t human. He wasn’t all brownie either, even though his parents were brownies. Bry had been blessed by the last grace of a fallen angel and granted hellfire by Uncle Luc himself. A kid like that didn’t do the common cold. He hadn’t been sick once since I adopted him a year ago. No flu, no cough, nada.

I finally pulled onto Momma R’s driveway, taking the long gravel path that wound around trees without slowing. The second I hit her front lawn, I slammed on the brakes, sending the car sliding sideways and small rocks flying through the air. Jezze nearly lost her grip on the oh shit handle but managed to save herself. Before the car even rocked to a stop, I was out and racing toward the house, my wolf snarling protectively as I sniffed the air for Bry’s scent.

“He’s right here,” Momma R called out from the front doorway. She had the baby in her arms, a damp cloth resting on his forehead. I rushed over and snatched him from her grip, hugging him close against my chest. I touched my fingers to his forehead, testing him for a fever, and my stomach clenched. His skin was on fire. Not
actual
fire because that only happened when he was cranky. I’d gone through two cribs, three strollers, and four tween nannies before Blooming Aster and Jezze came up with a protection spell that could withstand Bry’s hissy fits… and nightmares.

At least now I knew what my family went through when I was a baby. I swear, Uncle Luc only gave Bryony hellfire in order to get back at me for the way I’d been as a child.

But this heat was something different. Hellfire didn’t feel like this. For one thing, hellfire never hurt Bry himself, just as it never hurt me when I tapped into my inner flames. For another, this was a sickly, sweaty heat, and it made my poor baby wail as loudly as his little lungs could manage.

Jezze strode toward us, her skin glowing, and the soft tingle of magic filled the air. The white light slid over my friend’s body, coalescing on her hands, and she held them in the air above Bry. A growl leapt into my throat, my wolf demanding I pull its pup away from the witch. But I pushed that bitch back. I trusted Jezze above all others and she was Bry’s surrogate aunt. Other than Momma R, she was one of the best people to help my son.

Jezze closed her eyes, murmuring softly under her breath. The light coming from her palms seemed to sooth Bry, but it didn’t do a damn thing for his fever. Still mumbling, Jezze talked to herself. “There’s definitely something there.” Her hands ghosted over my son’s small body. “It’s hiding, but there. Something unnatural.”

The wolf attacked so quickly, so fiercely, I almost wasn’t able to keep it locked away. It leapt forward, snarling, and the fine hairs of my body stood on end.

“Someone attacked him,” I growled. “Trying to get to me through Bry?”

The wolf’s fur lurked just beneath the surface, aching to emerge. It thirsted for blood, for the ones who’d hurt our pup. I was on board with that plan, my wolf’s urges in line with my own. Unfortunately, I didn’t know who to kill.

“I don’t know what it is yet.” Those hands still glowed, Jezze’s murmur even beginning to calm me. She sighed and opened her eyes, the glow disappearing from her hands. When she left to go talk to her mother and compare notes, I remained in place.

I held him close, whispering softly, trying to ease his pain with my presence. He hadn’t been sick since he came into my care a year ago, right after his brownie clan was murdered in cold blood. I didn’t know how to do this, how to cope with something I couldn’t swing a sword at. If there was danger I could see, smell, or touch, I had shit handled. I’d pounce and rip it to shreds before it could touch my baby.

But I couldn’t attack this sickness with fangs or claws. I couldn’t burn it out with hellfire. I couldn’t do anything.

I’d never been so helpless than in that single moment. Not when I’d lit fire to Chicago and watched the city blocks burn. Or when my angel mate sacrificed his angel status to help me.

“Caith?”

I pulled my gaze from Bry and found Jezze standing nearby—and wringing her hands. Not a good thing.

“You can fix him.” I wasn’t going to give anyone a choice.

“I think we need to call someone.” The witch nibbled her lower lip.

“No,” I snarled, baring my elongating fangs. “You.”

I didn’t want anyone else near my sweet boy. Not when he was so vulnerable. Since the day I brought him into my home, I hadn’t let a single soul outside my family, and those I considered family, touch him. And I’d been that overprotective bitch
before
he’d gotten sick.

“Now, Caith.” Momma R glided toward our trio. “Being stubborn isn’t going to help Bryony. We can only do so much with our witchcraft.”

“You two are the strongest witches in the country.” And I knew that for a fact. “You can heal him.”

“We can’t. He needs a true healer.” Momma R’s words left no room for argument.

My stomach churned at the thought of contacting a true healer, of letting one place their hands on Bry. They were witches but so much more. Jezze and Momma R could mix potions and healing elixirs, but their witchcraft was of the zombie, toad, eye of newt variety. They did fun and flashy, too, and Jezze could toss balls of fire with the best of them.

True healers went beyond dangerous mischief. They reached into a person’s soul, mending the illness with magic drawn from the divine grace. Divine grace used on little Bry, a brownie gifted with hellfire.

I looked down at my son, chewing my lower lip while my thoughts whirled. I didn’t care for healers as a whole. Maybe it was because they pulled magic from On High and I had the whole “lotsa demon” thing going on. As the devil’s niece, I had a natural distaste for anything white, pure, or On High-y.

“Fine.” I knew when I was beat. “Call it in. Just make sure whoever it is— “

“I know someone who can be trusted,” Momma R assured me.

Trusted because they were trustworthy or trusted because they were afraid of Momma R? Did it matter?

Nope, not a bit.

I hugged my sweet boy to my chest and hoped—Morningstars didn’t pray—whoever Momma R called would be able to help Bry. I kept that fire of hope burning, feeding it with positive thoughts—even evil demons can benefit from therapy. He snuffled and whined against me here and there, but mostly remained quiet… listless.

So very unlike the normally boisterous Bryony.

I remained in that hopeful, exhausted, panicked daze while I paced the living room, ignoring Jezze’s pleas to get me to sit and Momma R’s orders to park my butt on the couch.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t sit and be stationary when Bryony needed me, needed something. I was powerless when it came to this. Suffering at the mercy of whatever illness captured my son.

It wasn’t until my wolf’s hackles rose, a low growl rolling from my throat, that I realized the true healer had arrived.

“Where is he?” The woman’s no-nonsense tone and brisk steps coming through the front door actually soothed the beast. This was a bitch that didn’t play.

Except, then she came into the living room, flowing robes and stereotypical witch’s hat perched on her head. That snuffed out any hint of respect and I went back to being an irrational momma.

“Hand him over.” She reached for Bryony, wrinkled arms outstretched as if to take him from me, and I snapped.

“Don’t touch him.” I jerked Bry out of reach and curled my lip, exposing a single fang.

“So you want him to die, then?” The witch crossed her arms, eyes blazing an unnatural white. The color of purity—On High.

Momma R grabbed my bicep, curling her aged fingers around my arm and squeezing tightly. Not enough to injure me, but with enough strength and zap of ice that it got my attention. “Let Sorsha work,” she said the words softly enough but with an underlying core of pure power. “She’s the best healer I know. Trust me.”

I trusted Momma R, didn’t I? She’d taken in the bedraggled, wild, obnoxious niece of Satan and welcomed me, hadn’t she?

I jerked my head in a quick nod but kept my mouth shut. I wouldn’t have anything nice to say and I’d already flashed fang once. I carefully placed Bry in the healer’s arms and followed the woman when she strode to the center of the living room. She placed him on the soft carpet, and I watched every movement as she examined Bryony. When Sorsha lifted her hand, I tensed, ready to whip out a weapon and bring the bitch down. But all she did was brush a long strand of midnight hair behind her elven ear.

Then she pulled out a small pouch and pulled several crystals and charms free.

“What are you doing?” Crystals? Charms? I wasn’t looking for spells that I could handle after a trip to the local store.

“Helping him,” her reply was quick and clipped. One by one, she placed them in a sacred circle around my son, chanting as she dropped each. She next lit a bundle of incense, violet smoke twirling into the air, and scents soon followed. I resisted the urge to sneeze to clear my nose. Frankincense and myrrh, and a few other fun little scents that I didn’t recognize. Whatever they were, they wreaked havoc on evil.

And, well, I am a good hunk of evil so I wasn’t exactly feeling great.

She waved it back and forth over Bry, pausing over each charm. Her chant altered slightly depending on the charm or crystal, and soon she held the bundle directly above Bryony’s head. The purple fog that surrounded him slowly drifted down, settling over my son and then sank into his skin. It sparkled where it touched him, flaring to life before being absorbed. Little by little, his cries faded until he was calm enough to drift into sleep.

“Is he okay?” I slowly approached, pushing back the discomfort that came with the remaining incense. It scratched and scraped at my skin, but it wasn’t more than I could handle. “Is he better?”

“For now.” Sorsha ran a finger down Bry’s chubby leg. “The spell will help ward off the fever. It’s the best I can do.”

“For now?” The bones in my hands throbbed, a new pain overtaking my other discomfort. The wolf wanted to bust out claws and wrap them around the woman’s throat. It wanted to demand she fix our pup. Now. “You’ve got to help him. You’ve got to make him better.”

Sorsha’s head snapped up and she shot a glare at me. Deep circles lingered under the elf’s almond-shaped eyes. “He’s not the only sick person in the city I need to worry about. I’m working on finding the source and a cure. I’ll contact Helene if I find anything that can help him.”

I opened my mouth, torn between questioning her about other ill tweeners and demanding she keep her ass put.

A low, trilling ring cut me off before I could say a word and Sorsha answered her cell phone. Without a word, the true healer rolled to her feet and raced toward the front door, already involved in another conversation.

I wasn’t going to be put off and followed on the bitch’s heels. “Wait. What do you mean? Others?”

“I’m sorry.” The elf glanced over her shoulder. “I have to go. I’ll be in touch.” Sorsha paused only long enough to lay a gentle touch on my arm. She probably thought it was comforting, and maybe to anyone but me it would have been. But I’m me and anything good hurt like a motherfucker, the small touch burning my skin. Smoke drifted up from my forearm, but I was too focused on Sorsha to bitch much. “Call me if anything changes, but as long as he’s stable, I have other patients.”

Then the elf was gone, out the door as if she’d never even crossed the threshold.

I really wished I had my bat. I felt the need to hit something and at the moment, my target was Sorsha’s front windshield. Dammit. With no bat in sight, I reached for a rocking chair on the front porch only to have Momma R grab my wrist.

The witch pulled me back into the house. “Hurting her won’t help Bryony.”

I grumbled. I knew that, but it would have made me feel better. If Momma R wouldn’t let me throw things, maybe she’d let me slug Sorsha. Just one punch. Nothing major… or permanent.

Instead of dwelling on causing the true healer bodily harm, I turned my attention back to my son.

“None of this makes sense. I don’t understand how he can be sick. Especially with something unnatural.” I looked around the old house at the countless runes inscribed around each window and doorway, hoping the cause would jump out at me. “He hasn’t been out in the cold, and the wards wouldn’t let anyone in.” I shook my head. “He couldn’t have caught it from one of us, could he?”

If he got it from me… I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself.

Jezze shook her head. “No, I checked. None of us are afflicted. No one else has been coming around, right?”

I let my mind wander back to the last couple of weeks and the visitors we’d had at Momma R’s and our home.

“I’ve got no new brownies and the only other person he’s been in contact with is Papa Al. He’s been trying to teach Bry how to play Xbox. Thinks it’ll help with his hand-eye coordination.” I’d almost told Papa Al that Bry was still too young for video games, but the sight of those two cuddled on the couch, Bry in one of my fathers’ laps, had been too cute. Plus, they hadn’t exactly had video games when I was a kid. I shouldn’t complain—it was the 1400s, what did I expect?—but I wanted to enjoy something I hadn’t.

I knelt beside my son, afraid to touch him, afraid to even look at him funny out of fear that whatever Sorsha did would suddenly unravel. Bry was stable, sure, but he was still sick. My stomach churned with the knowledge that even the elf didn’t know what was wrong with my sweet, sweet boy.

I did know one thing, though. Bryony was sick—other tweeners were sick—and Orland was still mine.

I made four rules when I started this town: order, secrecy, discretion if that’s the best you can do, and
no one
fucks with me or mine.