Gates of Demons: A New Adult Paranormal Romance (Keepers of the Grail Book 1)

by Tamar Sloan

  Fury snaps across the detective’s face as he surges to his feet. He stands over Reign, pressing his face close. “What were you doing in the mansion?”

  “Enjoying a spot of tea in the parlor,” Reign snaps.

  As he says the words, he knows they’re a mistake. The flash of triumph in the detective’s cold brown eyes only confirms it.

  “So, you were there. That house is one of the few mansions in the state to have a parlor.” Detective Kane smiles. “So very British of them, don’t you think?”

  Reign doesn’t bother answering. He could point out that he threw out a cocky response, having no idea what a parlor is and whether the Sinclair Mansion even has one, but he’ll look like he’s arguing too hard. Instead, he goes on the offense.

  “You are certainly very interested in the Sinclair Mansion, Detective. If I were to visit there, is there anything in particular I should check out?”

  The smile wipes from the detective’s features. He pushes his face close enough to Reign’s that he can feel the cold, hard fury that’s throbbing through him. “Enough,” he grinds out. “You’re almost eighteen, Reign. Big boy jail won’t tolerate your cocky attitude with the same patience I’ve shown you.” He leans back, jerking his cuffs back down. “Which is why I’d recommend you accept my offer.”

  Reign waits, his gut clenched. He already knows he won’t like what’s coming next.

  Detective Kane smiles coldly. “I’ll drop all charges against you if you show me what secrets Sinclair Mansion hides.”

  Reign holds very still as those words sink in. The detective knows there’s something at the mansion. And he wants it so bad he’s willing to give Reign a get out of jail free pass. Now, that’s certainly an outcome he didn’t anticipate—the promise of freedom.

  He glances up, holding Detective Kane’s gaze. “Did I mention that I don’t like tea? The last place you’d ever find me is a parlor.”

  The detective shoots to his feet, picks up the chair, and throws it at the wall. The chair shatters, metal legs bouncing off the cement while the plastic seat explodes into shards.

  Reign narrows his gaze at Detective Kane. “It seems some people feel strongly about tea.”

  Detective Kane abruptly steps back. His nostrils flare as he draws in an audible breath. He bangs on the door twice, never breaking eye contact. “How about I give you the night to think about it? Our cells will only give you a taste of what’s to come if I throw the book at you with everything I have—which is exactly what I plan on doing if you don’t talk—but sometimes a taste is all you need.”

  The door opens and two uniformed police officers enter. Reign stands and raises his chin, noting the way their gazes shift away from the pieces of chair on the floor. Shaking his head in disgust, he turns, extending his arms to be cuffed again. The hard metal wraps around his wrists, clamping a little too tight before he’s yanked away.

  Detective Kane holds the door open, waving his arm with a flourish. “Have a wonderful night, Mr. Everson.”

  Reign ignores him as he’s escorted out. Detective Kane is a clueless ass. Reign’s life isn’t like Arielle, Gabby’s, or even Mac’s. There aren’t a plethora of possibilities waiting for him. His future is mapped out down two paths only. Jail. Or death.

  Right now, the detective is showing Reign whether option A is going to be the more palatable one.

  He’s walked to the back of the station where several cells are sectioned off. Black bars line the front, while more gray cement separates each one. They’re all empty apart from the one at the end.

  Reign lets out a silent breath of relief. Hanging in a barely furnished room on his own for the night isn’t a new experience. In fact, this place is cleaner. Heck, he’s willing to bet the food is better, too.

  Except the officer shoves him past the first cell. And then past the second. Reign digs his heels in when he realizes they’re passing each empty one. “These ones are free,” he points out. “You can’t legally put me in that one when there are others available.”

  The officer grunts as he pushes him forward. He clangs a key into the door and yanks it open, shoving Reign in. “Give me your hands,” he orders, quickly unlocking the handcuffs. “See, I’m not a total asshole.”

  The door slams shut, the noise bouncing off the unforgiving walls. “Just holler when you’re ready to talk,” says the officer, already walking away.

  “You are definitely a total asshole,” Reign calls after him.

  “Keep it quiet!” screeches a voice from the corner of the cell.

  Reign spins around to see a man curled up on one of the concrete slabs they call beds in this place. His clothes hang on his thin frame and his hair is sticking up at odd, greasy angles. He wraps trembling arms around his head. “Too much noise,” he wails.

  Reign instantly recognizes he’s in a cell with an addict, one who’s crashing. He takes a slow step to the other bed on the opposite side of the cell. “Sorry, man, I—”

  The guy leaps to his feet, eyes crazed in his bearded face. He rushes at Reign, stopping only an inch away and swaying his head erratically. Reign holds completely still, even though every muscle is poised and ready to fight for his life.

  “You stay quiet, I’ll stay on my half, understand?” the man hisses through brown teeth.

  Reign nods. He’s seen people like this before, those whose cravings rule their mind. It makes them unstable and unpredictable. And willing to go to extreme lengths to get what their body desperately needs.

  The man sways for a few more seconds, eyes unblinking and mouth working, before turning back to his concrete bed. He curls up on the vinyl covered slip of mattress, wrapping his arms around his head again.

  Reign moves silently to his half of the cell. He sits on the mattress, grimacing when it creaks under his weight. His cellmate groans and frantically scratches at the scabs on his arms, but he doesn’t look up. Resting his back on the cold cement wall, Reign lets out a slow breath.

  It’s going to be a long night.

  He drops his head back, allowing his eyelids to droop as if he’s off to snoozeville. Although there’s no chance he’ll be sleeping tonight, it’s best if his cellmate thinks he is. He notes the cameras attached to the ceiling on the other side of the bars. Detective Kane and his crooked cops can assume he’s doing the same, too.

  Reign lets his mind drift into what he calls street sleep. One part of his brain hovers close to the rest his body craves, remembering the sensation of oblivion but not quite getting to taste it. The other part is hyper-aware of the man several feet away, noting his irregular breathing, the way he jolts each time he scratches at his cement-colored skin. That part of his brain is waiting for the promise of threat to be fulfilled.

  It means the moment the barest thread of smoke creeps across the cell floor, Reign sees it. He desperately tries to pretend it isn’t there. Except the smoke grows and thickens, creating eddies that curl around the prison bars and lap at the edge of the concrete beds.

  No, not now.

  Joseph appears a second later, at first little more than a see-through apparition, but quickly gaining substance. He glances around, seeming to recognize where they are.

  “You have been jailed?” He takes a step forward. “You must get out of here,” he says urgently.

  If Reign wasn’t in a jail cell, he’d close his eyes so he could complete the pretense that this isn’t happening. He doesn’t need to glance at his cellmate to check whether he’s seeing this. He already knows he can’t. The guy is no longer the craziest person trapped in this cell.

  Joseph frowns. “Evil is coming, I can feel it.”

  Yeah, well, Reign’s sanity is leaving. He can feel that, too.

  “You must accept your destiny, Grail Keeper. You are our last hope.”

  Reign chews on the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. He wants to shout that if he’s anyone’s last hope, then they’ve got some serious problems. Of all the hallucinations his mind could’ve conco
cted, it had to be one that only reminds Reign of what a disappointment he is.

  Actually, it’s probably a good thing it’s safer that he doesn’t move or speak right now. The need to punch Joseph is overwhelming.

  The old man’s robes droop as his shoulders sag. “I will show you what is fated if you do not stop this, Grail Keeper.”

  The mists on the ground steadily turn red, as if blood is being spun into cotton candy. Reign’s about to turn away, shocked and sickened, when something begins to rise from the crimson smoke. Thick and square, it looks so solid he’d swear it’s real. Despite the word barely existing in his vocabulary until a few days ago, he knows instantly what it is.

  Obelisk.

  The tower cracks and the sound is so loud it almost makes Reign duck. Blazing light streaks through the cell, red and fiery as if Hell itself is breaking free. The crevices expand, the light becoming blinding.

  Stop! No more!

  But his silent words fall on deaf ears. Joseph watches on, his face a twisted mix of desperation and determination.

  Shadows begin slithering out, formless yet very much alive. At first, in ones or twos, but they quickly become a tide of black ink. The creatures that seem to be made of nothing but night spread through the sky like cancer. The soulless beings screech with excitement, the sound as bloody as the red the cell is now stained in.

  “No!” Reign roars, leaping to his feet. “Make it stop!”

  The vision and Joseph disappear, leaving Reign to stand in the center of the room, breathing heavily. He tries to tell himself what he saw wasn’t real, but the fear thumping through his veins refuses to believe it.

  Suddenly, something else is before Reign, capturing his attention. It’s his cellmate.

  And he didn't bring his marbles with him.

  “I told you to be quiet,” he says, threat laced through his voice and crazy climbing through his eyes.

  24

  Arielle

  Arielle suddenly wishes she’d gone with Mac. Just like every second in the past twenty-four hours, she’s in uncharted territory. She’s only ever known her aunt to be soft-hearted and mild-tempered. Her sweet nature is the reason she firmly believes Reign is a nice guy.

  But right now, Aunt Shell’s face is tight with anger, her usually smiling lips little more than a flat line. What’s more the police have gone, meaning it’s just the two of them. “Let’s take this to the living room, shall we?” she asks curtly.

  Arielle nods, glad for the chance to get her head around what she’s going to say. Whatever it is, it’s going to have to be convincing.

  Once in the room, Arielle gravitates to her mother’s chair, as if it has protective properties. Aunt Shell doesn’t sit in her usual place on the sofa, instead pacing several feet one way then back again.

  She’s the most worked up Arielle’s ever seen. “Well?” she demands. “Where did you want to start?”

  Arielle shifts uncomfortably. “I…ah…” She clears her throat, jamming some fortitude down her spine as she looks her aunt in the eye, deciding honesty is her best strategy. “I can’t really talk about it.”

  Those words seem to be the very ones her aunt doesn’t want to hear. Her hands fly to her chest and she collapses onto the lounge. “Sweet heavens, I’ve failed again.” Her head drops. “Your mother would be so disappointed,” she says quietly.

  “What?” Arielle whispers, the words punching her straight in the gut.

  Aunt Shell looks up. “Why weren’t you at school today, Ari?”

  “I needed a bit of space,” she says, her gaze dropping to her hands.

  “And who are Reign and Mac?”

  Arielle’s spine straightens again. “Reign and Mac are good people—”

  Aunt Shell shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m asking. How did you meet them?”

  “Reign is the guy I ran into at the library. Mac is his best friend. They didn’t know anything about Mom and the fact she’s missing.”

  “And the parchment?” Aunt Shell probes. “Why did you have it?”

  That question has her hesitating. How much does her aunt know about all of this? Gabby had Arielle promising she wouldn’t mention this to Aunt Shell, which suggests she knows very little. Or a whole lot.

  “Well?” Aunt Shell asks. “Someone wanted that parchment so bad I was held at gunpoint. What was it?”

  Arielle scrabbles for some half-truth so she can ease her aunt’s worries.

  The sounds of footsteps down the hallway have them both shooting to their feet. Arielle rushes to Aunt Shell and they clasp hands. Her heart thuds against her ribs as she waits to see who their next intruder is.

  Gabby appears in the door, scanning the room quickly before landing on her mother and Arielle. “Are you two okay? Mac called, said you had a visitor.”

  Aunt Shell lets out a relieved huff. “Gabrielle, honey, you just gave us a scare.”

  “Sorry, Mom.” Gabby grins sheepishly. “I should’ve knocked or something.”

  Arielle suspects their frayed nerves would’ve jolted at that, too.

  Gabby notes the way her mother and Arielle are still clutching each other. “What happened?”

  Aunt Shell recaps everything that’s happened, surprisingly calm. Gabby glances at Arielle a few times throughout the story, and Arielle wonders what she’s thinking. Is she worried she’s told Aunt Shell the truth? Does she know what the parchment contained?

  Aunt Shell lets out a breath as she finishes. “I was just asking Ari why she had the parchment in the first place.”

  Arielle freezes as she turns her expectant gaze to her. She still hasn’t come up with a plausible explanation.

  “Oh, that?” Gabby says lightly. “It was something I left here for Sierra ages ago.”

  Aunt Shell’s head snaps back to her daughter. “You what?”

  “Yep,” says Gabby as if it was no big deal. “She thought it was a recipe for camel milk cheese or something.”

  Aunt Shell’s shoulders drop in defeat. “Ari, you should go to bed and get some sleep.” She looks at her, the steel in her gaze seeming to flow through to the rest of her. “You need to go back to your studies tomorrow.”

  Arielle’s first instinct is to refuse, but Gabby’s eyes widen a notch as she imperceptibly nods. She thinks that's exactly what Arielle should do, too.

  Arielle nods. “You’re right. Getting back to college is exactly what I need right now.”

  Aunt Shell visibly relaxes. “Your mom would be happy to hear that. Did you want a hot chocolate to help settle you in?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks,” Arielle says with a weak smile. Her stomach isn’t up to having anything in there right now. “I’ll just read for a bit or something.”

  Aunt Shell turns to Gabby. “What about you, Gabrielle? Would you like one?”

  Although Arielle can’t see her aunt’s face, there’s the slightest pause before Gabby responds.

  “Sure, I’d love one.”

  Arielle turns away, pretending she didn’t just see something pass between mother and daughter. “Good night.”

  Aunt Shell and Gabby chorus their own goodnights before leaving the living room. Arielle walks up the stairs until they disappear into the kitchen. The moment they’re gone, she tiptoes back down.

  Just as she suspected, there are no sounds of the fridge opening or pots clanging as milk is warmed on the stove. Her aunt and cousin wanted to have a conversation without Arielle present.

  “What’s going on, Gabby?” Aunt Shell asks in a hiss.

  Arielle waits with her breath held. Is Gabby going to give her mother the same story Arielle just did?

  “Nothing’s going on,” Gabby says in a huff. “Camel milk cheese sounded kinda cool.”

  Relieved, Arielle rests her head against the bannister. Aunt Shell was looking for reassurance, and that’s exactly what Gabby’s giving her. For some reason, it was important to know that. To know that Aunt Shell is just as clueless about this as Arielle was.r />
  “I don’t believe you, Gabrielle.”

  There’s silence and Arielle can just imagine Gabby crossing her arms, maybe chewing on her thumbnail. Her cousin can be pretty stubborn when she puts her mind to it.

  “I need to know she’s being safe, Gabby,” Aunt Shell says quietly. Imploringly. “I owe her mother that much.”

  Gabby’s sigh is loud enough that Arielle hears it through the wall. “I told her Sierra used to research the occult.”

  Aunt Shell gasps. “Why? I don’t understand why you would involve her in this!”

  “She’s smart and you know it. She was asking questions.”

  A sick feeling is pooling in Arielle’s stomach. Even Aunt Shell knows. Everyone knew…except her.

  “And?” Aunt Shell demands. “Sierra never found the Grail! She lost the man she loves for it, and now she’s missing! Having Arielle involved is something she never wanted.”

  Arielle folds over, her arms wrapped around her middle as she clenches her jaw. Nausea is clawing at her throat. Tears are scratching at her eyelids.

  They all knew, and they all kept this from her. The three most important people in her life believed she couldn’t cope with this.

  Gabby doesn’t answer and Arielle doesn’t know what that means. A part of her wants her cousin to tell Aunt Shell that she’s wrong. That Arielle’s mother was wrong. That Arielle is far stronger than any one of them realized.

  “You conveniently forgot how dangerous this is?” Aunt Shell hisses, as if she’s trying to keep her voice down. “A man was in our house with a gun, Gabrielle.”

  There’s silence again.

  Tell her, Gabby. Arielle silently whispers. Tell her I already know who you really are.

  “You promised, Gabby.” Aunt Shell’s voice has developed a pleading note. “You promised me you wouldn’t involve her.”

  “I just—”

  “No, Gabrielle, there is no ‘I just’ when it comes to this, and you know it. You need to stop before she’s in too deep.”

  Another pause draws out, dragging over Arielle’s taught nerves.