Grave Consequences (Hellgate Guardians Book 2)

by Ivy Asher

  “For fuck’s sake,” Jerif sighs, shaking his head at me. “Not Pride as in the parade, Pride as in Pride. One of the seven deadly sins.”

  “Oh.”

  Crux starts to crack up, but Iceman and Echo just look at me with shock. “Maverick, the Abdicated that you had dinner with are the Generals of the Seven Sins. Tell me someone explained that to you,” Iceman pleads incredulously.

  I feel a blush work up my neck as I shake my head. Now I’m even more pissed off at Taz. I attended a dinner party with not only the fucking Devil, but also with the embodiment of the Seven Deadly Sins? What the actual fuck?

  “Of course they didn’t,” I snap, irritation laced in my tone as I think back to those Abdicated. “Why explain something like that when it’s so much fun to just leave me in the dark and watch shit go down like me threatening to scythe the Prince of Darkness?” I snark.

  “Wait. You did what?” Jerif growls, his flaming eyes narrowed on me.

  “It was a misunderstanding,” I defend. “But even though he pretended not to like it, I’m pretty sure it tipped me even further into his favorite pile.”

  Jerif just looks at the others with pure exasperation on his face. “I...I...I don’t even know what to say! You can’t fucking do shit like that, Delta!” he snarls, looking at the others like he’s waiting for them to agree. I cross my arms and glare at him.

  Iceman cuts in before Jerif and I can start to argue. “Pride, Avarice, Envy, Wrath, Lust, Gluttony, and Acedia are the seven major sins that mortals struggle with. Those Abdicated have to make sure that those sinful natures are equally spread, so they hire demons to do that in Hell and in the Mortal Realm. The Generals they choose to serve under them are each in charge of a branch from their sin,” Iceman explains.

  My head is spinning. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning they control all the ways in which their sin is used. How it’s used against souls or used for them. It’s a huge honor and responsibility,” Echo adds.

  I fix my gaze to a tall headstone as I try to take everything in. I guess that explains a lot about everyone’s personalities at that dinner, especially red-haired, big-boobed Elle. Which...now that I think about it, probably is actually L for Lust. Damn. Lust almost sauntered out of the dinner party with Crux on her arm. That thought pisses me off.

  “So when you say that your brother works for an Avarice think tank…”

  “His job is to come up with new ways to use Greed to lure, condemn, and punish with it,” Iceman explains. “It’s a rather boring office job and the exact opposite of the physical role he thought he would have fighting and being a Guardian badass or savior of Hell,” he adds, and I nod, comprehending how much that probably sucks for his brother.

  “So I’m guessing you’re his favorite person to be around then?” I tease.

  Iceman grunts a laugh and rubs at his horns again. “Yeah, let’s just say that Samhain—the only time we all get together anymore—is very awkward.”

  I give Iceman an apologetic look.

  “You should go back for Equinox this year and show off your new Nihil hottie. I’m sure he won’t hulk out from jealousy at all,” Crux says with a mischievous grin.

  “He’d deserve it after the shit he pulled at the last Beltane I went to,” Iceman replies on a sad smile and a sigh.

  “If the Gate chooses though, how can he hold all of this against you?” I ask, gesturing to the graveyard and mausoleum in front of us.

  “He’s just a sore loser,” Crux states. “He acts like Raf did something to sway it, even though he knows that’s not how it works. And Raf’s family lets him get away with it because they’re embarrassed about backing the wrong kid. It’s stupid, but that’s family for you sometimes.”

  My heart breaks a little for Iceman right then and there. I walk over to him and lace my fingers through his cool palm, and he looks over at me in surprise, like he’s never had someone try to comfort him. I give him a sideways look. “You want me to scythe him for you?” I ask, aiming to raise his spirits. “I can cut off his horns or something. Then you can have the Best horns in the family title, plus the kickass job. Bet that’ll really piss him off.”

  To my relief, Iceman actually lets out a rumbling laugh that nearly curls my toes. “I would like that, actually. I might just take you up on it.”

  I give his hand a squeeze. “Good. Just say the when and where, and I’ll take care of it for you, Iceman,” I say with a wink.

  He lifts up our joined hands and places a kiss on the back of mine in a sweet gesture. I want to stop and take his face between my hands and kiss him until he forgets all about his asshole brother, but I don’t. I know we need to get this induction thing rolling, so I put it on my to-do list for later, right along with yelling at Taz for not telling me he’s one-seventh of the Deadly Sins. How’s that for a family tree?

  When the five of us finally reach the mausoleum, I take a moment to notice the singing birds and shining sun and warm breeze in the air. You’d never know that right here, there’s a Gate into Hell. Maybe that’s the point.

  Jerif swings open the mausoleum door, and our group moves inside, instantly swallowed by darkness when the door shuts behind us. I look around, my eyes adjusting to the dark, but Jerif makes a hanging candle come to life, which helps a little.

  “Now what?” I say, wiping my free hand on my leather pants to try to dispel some of the nervous sweaty palm situation I have going on.

  “Now, we induct you.”

  A nervous trill sounds in my eardrums, like my brain is blowing an oh shit horn, but I swallow and nod. “Okay.”

  Crux gently moves me to a particular spot, and I look around as the guys form a circle around me. “Where’s the portal? I never got to see it before because I was always on the verge of a panic attack,” I tell them, looking around for the liquid mercury-like surface I saw in the Vestibule and on the portal Tazreel called up for us.

  “And you aren’t right now?” Jerif challenges, cocking an arrogant brow.

  “No,” I lie with a sassy edge to my tone. “Cool as a motherfucking cucumber.”

  He snorts but doesn’t say anything else, and Echo points down. “You’re on it,” he tells me, and my eyes move to the floor.

  Squinting, I can see symbols carved into the gray stone, but I can’t see well enough in this lighting to tell what they are.

  Iceman lifts his left hand palm-up, and then an icy white fog appears there. It goes from wispy to solid in a blink, and then I’m staring at a dagger made of pure white-blue ice.

  “With this ritual, you’ll be bound to protect this portal for the rest of your life. Once it’s complete, the Hellgate will recognize you, allowing you to pass through as a Guardian without issue. The Gate will tap into your essence as a demon and pull from it to fortify itself. That can feel a little weird, but the draw on your power will even out, and you’ll barely notice the leeching unless the Gate is under attack or being breached by unauthorized beings,” he explains.

  I nod, somewhat numbly, as the gravity of this hits me.

  His blue eyes stay steady on my face. “Are you ready, Maverick?” he asks, probably using my nickname to help me feel lighter in dealing with the heavy weight of responsibility now settling on my shoulders.

  My heart races like it wants me to choose flight instead of fight in this situation. But I’m not going to run or deny or ignore anymore. I’m done with all of that. I’m scared, but I’m ready. I won’t let my fellow Guardians down, but more importantly, I’ll never let myself down again by trying to hide from who I know I can be, regardless of how intimidating that is.

  “I’m ready,” I say. There’s no turning back now. “I want to help. I want to do this,” I add, feeling the conviction and excitement that’s starting to overpower any nervousness for my newfound purpose.

  Iceman blinks, and I see his eyes fill with things I haven’t seen in someone’s gaze since my parents died.

  Respect.

  He stares at me
with proud respect flowing out of his beautiful blue eyes, and my throat gets tight. I nod at him, silently affirming that I want this. I want this life. I want everything that comes with it. I want him, and I want the others too. I may have accidentally claimed them at the dinner party, but I meant it.

  With a warm smile and an answering nod, Iceman slices the ice dagger down his own palm and then holds his hand out, palm-down, letting blood droplets fall onto the floor. I watch it, mesmerized.

  His essence drips to the ground, where he and his ancestors have given everything to protect it. The dagger gets passed around from him to Echo, Jerif, and Crux, until all four of them have sliced their palms. Their outstretched arms are all pointing in the center toward my body, and their blood steadily hits the floor, each drip punctuated with an unnatural hiss and a sense of honor.

  By the time it’s my turn and Crux hands me the blade, my heart is pounding. I take the frozen hilt in my right hand and then hold my left palm up. I hesitate for just a second and then press the sharp tip into my skin with a wince. I drag it quickly across my palm, not letting myself think about it too much. I stare at the line of red as blood beads to the surface and starts to spill over the side of my palm. I follow the silent cue of the others, raise my arm, and tip my hand palm-down.

  We all watch breathlessly, tracking as the very first drop of my blood falls.

  It hits the stone, and I swear, I can hear it like a slap against skin, and every drop of blood that lands onto the carved floor of the Hell Portal begins to steam.

  The guys start murmuring a few words over and over in a chant, and my mouth starts mimicking them without me even having to think about it.

  “By blood, soul, and origin, I tie my essence to this Gate. Never to be broken, by word or marrow. I claim this Rite and bind this access to the threads of who I am. So it is spoken, so it is done.”

  Our voices build like a crescendo. Simple words spoken from devoted lips, over and over again, and I’m surprised by the power that swirls robustly around us as we drop our blood and promises onto the ancient ground and warm air. It feels like a breeze picks up our repeated vow and expertly wraps all of us in it, connecting and twining one life to the other in a Celtic knot that cannot be broken or undone from here until forever.

  The floor begins to tremble, but I stay frozen on the spot, not daring to move or mess anything up. Our collective voices get even louder as steam rises and grows thicker around us, dancing with the breeze and fortifying the connections I can feel being forged.

  My ears start ringing, and my palm aches, and something hooks in the pit of my stomach, like a fish latching onto bait. It’s startling and invigorating, and this must be what Iceman was talking about when he said I’d feel the Gate’s pull.

  The guys’ voices start to sound hoarse as though we’ve been talking for days. Then again, I realize that I have no sense of time. It feels like only minutes have passed, but maybe I’m wrong. My own throat suddenly feels raspy, and Hell portal steam is clogging my ears, my nose, my mouth, feeling as heavy and oppressive as the responsibility I can feel weaving through everything that I am. The ground quakes even more threateningly, causing some of the stone ceiling to rain down dusty rocks above us, and just when I think the whole thing is going to crack and cave in, everything stops.

  The steam dissipates. Our voices stop. The floor becomes steady and solid beneath our feet once again. With wide gray eyes, I stare down at the symbols etched into the floor, noting that every drop of blood is gone.

  I try to take stock of myself, seeing if I can decipher any physical changes or strange feelings. That hooked and knotted sensation has completely dissipated, and I just feel like me again.

  I swallow thickly, my eyes dragging up. “Was that it? Did it work?” I ask breathlessly.

  Iceman nods, and then his full lips spread into a breathtaking smile. “It’s done. You’re now a Hellgate Guardian.”

  15

  Tears spill from my eyes, and I grab my side, trying and failing to calm the ache in it. My cheeks hurt from laughing so hard and for so long, but I can’t help it. I can’t even stop laughing long enough to eat the amazing Chinese chicken salad sitting in front of me. I took one bite and decided I wanted to crawl into the dish and live there always, but then Iceman started talking about the first Beltane he went to at Jerif’s parents’ house, and I haven’t been able to stop giggling long enough to eat another bite.

  “He just stood there with the flat iron to his short and curlies, pissed that he had burnt himself because his mom never knocks. ‘MA! I’m in here!’” Iceman yells in the most hilarious impression of what Jerif sounded like when he apparently shouted at his mother.

  It’s killing me. Every time he yells Maaa! I just hear it in this South Boston accent, and the next thing I know, I’m on the verge of pissing myself laughing.

  “So he slams the door, cursing up a storm about how he almost burnt his dick off, while his mom is banging on the door telling him that curly pubes are just as good as straight ones and he should be happy with what he has. He, of course, just yelled at her to leave him alone,” Iceman continues the story, frosted tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes.

  “Why were you straightening your pubes?” I ask Jerif on a laugh, but he just shrugs like how the hell should I know? Guffaws crow around the table, and Jerif just sits there with his grumpy face on, eating as though Iceman’s not laying all this embarrassing shit out for the rest of us to hear.

  “So, of course, she just keeps knocking on the door trying to comfort her Wee Demon, which I found out that night was a nickname Jerif got when his powers first developed and he kept burning all his pants off and nearly singeing his dick.”

  Crux laughs so hard he almost tips back in his chair, which of course just makes all of us laugh even more. I’m a laugh-crying mess, my body practically cramping against the happy peals squealing out of me, while I half-coherently mumble Wee Demon over and over again.

  “Maaa, stop talking about my dick! I don’t want a sandwich, go away!” Iceman mimics again, and I’m dead. Deader than dead. Get a doornail, that’s me.

  “Did your sisters know you used their hair straightener for that?” I ask, a giggling mess.

  Jerif just wipes his mouth and shakes his head like nothing we do is going to get him to shatter his gruff exterior and participate in the laughs being had at his expense. He doesn’t even seem to be bothered by our talking about him and his family, which for some reason, just makes this all the more amusing.

  Iceman’s eyes twinkle. “He had to buy them a new one, and his oldest sister, Roul, bedazzled the one he used, calling it the cabbage patch. She gave it to him Beltane night in front of the whole family, which of course meant his mom dove right into the story of why the gift was funny for all the relatives who didn’t get it.”

  “That she-demon doesn’t know when to quit,” Jerif grumbles evenly, and we all lose it again. This time, Crux does tip all the way back in his chair, letting out a squeal that causes me to almost breach the limits of my bladder. I shoot out of my chair and run as fast as I can toward the nearest bathroom or potted plant, whichever I end up finding first.

  Laughs trail after me like a cape, but thank fuck the third door I check leads right into a washroom. Things get dicey for about four seconds as I try to untie my crotch laces on the leather pants, but thankfully, I make them my bitch and I’m on the toilet, releasing the flood before I can do something to embarrass myself.

  I let out a relieved sigh.

  “I’ve got it!” Tazreel declares excitedly as he suddenly pops into the bathroom out of nowhere.

  I scream and reel back from shock, falling off the toilet and inadvertently wedging my wings and ass in the corner, between the side of the commode and the wall, ass out...of course.

  “What the fuck?” I yell at my sperm donor, fear and adrenaline slamming through my veins as I try to yank my wing over me like a blanket to hide myself, but damn it’s wedged tightly behin
d me in a very oh fuck, I’m stuck kind of way.

  “I found a way to find your mother!” he yells enthusiastically at me, as if that matters more than the fact that I’m jammed into the corner, half-naked, and trying not to finish peeing on myself.

  “Get out!” I yell, nearly pulling out some of my feathers as I tug on my wing more.

  Tazreel frowns down at me. “What are you doing on the floor? Get up! Aren’t you listening to what I’m telling you? I know how to find out who your mother is.”

  Cursing under my breath, it’s clear that Tazreel has absolutely zero personal boundaries, and he’s too damn arrogant to leave.

  “Tazreel—” I growl, but before I threaten the Abdicated asshole to get the fuck out, the door bursts open and the guys are all rushing in. “We heard you scream,” Crux explains as his wide green eyes lock on me.

  “What...what’s happening in here?” he asks as all four of them stare at Taz.

  “He just popped in here while I was mid-stream,” I accuse with irritation. “And now I’m stuck!”

  Echo and Crux try not to smile, but they fail miserably.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Taz says dismissively. “What matters is your mother.”

  I show him my teeth like I’m some kind of rabid animal. “Get. Out.”

  “Alright,” Iceman intervenes as he smoothly steps between me and Taz, giving the Abdicated prick a bow of respect. “I have demon spirits if you’d like a drink? You can tell us all about Delta’s mother while you refresh yourself.”

  Taz lifts his chin. “I only drink demon spirits that have been aging for five thousand years at least.”

  “Then you’re in luck because we have a ten thousand year old bottle waiting in the cellar with your name on it.”

  I can tell this throws Taz off-kilter. He was expecting to be able to brush Iceman’s polite offer away, being the proud obnoxious prick that he is. “That would be fine,” he says haughtily before turning on his heel and stomping out of the bathroom. Iceman gives me a half-amused look before sauntering after him. “It’s the other way, sir.”