Hell's Redemption- The Complete Series Boxset

by Grace McGinty

  “I’m doing what I need to do, Charlie. I thought you of all people would understand that. They put her in hospital. If you had seen her…” I trailed off and wished there was more whiskey in my glass. Or maybe I just needed the bottle. I couldn't chase away the images fast enough.

  Charlie put his hand on my knee and squeezed. His touch was a comfort. He was my best friend. He knew me as well as I knew myself. Well, almost. There were secrets we all had to keep.

  “I understand, Rella. I do. But whatever you are planning, you aren't doing it without me.”

  I tensed my jaw and turned to look at him, his brilliant green eyes like sparkling like gems. Such a weird shade on a man, but I had found them mesmerizing as a child. Hell, they were still mesmerizing to this day. His look told me he was with me, no matter what, until the very end. I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder.

  “I’m gonna find them all, Charlie. And I’m gonna make them pay.”

  He kissed the top of my head and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Okay, Rella Rua. We will make them hurt for what they did for Hope. Just don’t cut me out okay. I’ve got your back.” I smiled at his use of his childhood nickname for me. Apparently, it’s an Irish thing, adding rua to the end of the names of people who had red hair. Rua meant red.

  I sighed, my head churning over with hundreds of possibilities, where to start, what my end game was, everything.

  Eventually, Charlie peeled me off the barstool and took me home. I lived in a converted warehouse apartment, with barely any furniture and a fridge basically just for beer and ketchup. Not that I was trying to live up to a stereotype or anything. Sam, one of my Dads, called it Cop Chic. Usually with his nose screwed up.

  But it was close to the precinct and Mike's bar, so I didn’t mind. I didn’t inherit any of Sam or Tolliver’s aesthetic tastes. If the bed was warm and the pillow was fluffy, I was good. I wasn’t here often enough for the rest of it to matter.

  Charlie walked me home, unlocking the door with his spare key. The whole place was open plan, except the bathroom. My bed was a four poster, with gauzy white curtains. It looked like a princess bed in the middle of a frat house. Swords were poised on the wall, looking like decoration, but I knew how to swing those bad boys like Joan of Arc, thanks to Lux. My only other luxury was the kitchen. I loved to bake cupcakes, so my kitchen was state of the art. I smiled at the thought. My love of baking was intertwined with my love for Valery, my other father. Yeah, I have seven Dads, so what?

  “I know that, Rella. We grew up together, remember?” Charlie laughed at my drunk ass, and I realized I must have been speaking out loud.

  I muttered something and staggered toward my bed. Maybe I was still getting vertigo from all the sifting I did a week ago. Or maybe it was the bottle of whiskey? Nah, definitely the sifting.

  I sat down on my bed and tried to untie my boots, but all the blood kept going to my head and made me want to puke. They could just stay on. I flopped back on to the satin comforter and squinted. If I closed my left eye just right, the room didn’t spin as much.

  Charlie was still laughing as he undid my boots and pulled them off. Then my socks.

  I pulled my shirt over my head, and Charlie let out a choked gasp.

  I rolled my eyes, or I thought I did anyway. “They’re just boobs, Charlie. Nice boobs too, I think.”

  Charlie looked at the floor. “Sure, Rella. Let me just get you a shirt.”

  He rummaged through my drawer and pulled out an old cotton tee.

  I stood and undid my bra and giggled at Charlie’s bright red face. He threw the shirt at me.

  I fiddled with the button of my jeans, but they refused to come undone. I stamped my bare foot.

  “Charlie, help me take my pants off?”

  Charlie’s eyes snapped to mine, dipped to my now naked breasts, then back to my face and stayed glued there.

  “Am I interrupting something?” A dark voice asked, its growl somewhere between amused and threatening.

  Charlie went pale.

  I whipped around too fast and lost my balance, landing on my face at Luc’s feet.

  “Sup, Luc?” I looked at his shiny black shoes. He seemed more like a brogues kinda guy. Or those combat boots next to his. I counted his feet. One, two, four… “Did you know you have six feet right now?” I asked, my cheek pressed against the polished cement floor that was currently freezing my nipples. There was a small wave of laughter in the room. He clicked, and I was clothed.

  “God, I wish I had that trick,” Charlie muttered from somewhere behind me.

  I was in fluffy pyjamas patterned with pink elephants in tutus. I think I had a pair exactly like it when I was four. Luc reached down, and I grabbed his hand, resisting the urge to grab my head as he pulled me to my feet.

  “Uh, Luc, I take it back. You only have two feet.”

  Because the other two sets belonged to two scary ass guys who made my nonexistent panties go up like a Roman candle.

  “Yes, I only have the two, Estrella. It is good to see you again, Charles Mulligan.”

  Charlie came up behind me, placing his hand on my back. I didn’t know if he was trying to be supportive or thought that Luc wouldn’t eviscerate him for seeing me naked if he was somehow attached to me. He needn’t have worried. Luc was cool. If it’d been Lux in my apartment, he’d have been in way more trouble. That Dad had been a Spartan and had made dating in my teens a nightmare.

  “Hello, Sir.”

  The Devil scared the shit out of the Mulligans; although they weren’t certain of who he was, they were Catholic enough to guess. Pretty sure they had their own little section of hell reserved, so they were right to fear him.

  I took in the men with Luc. They weren’t Fallen, I knew that much. They were big and dark, their olive skin hinting at something Mediterranean, or Spanish perhaps. They were nearly identical, but there were a couple of subtle differences. The least subtle was that they both had different colored eyes. The slightly bigger one on the left had one emerald green eye and one that was sapphire blue. The one on the right had one that was a deep chocolate brown, almost the color of his hair, and the other one was the color of liquid gold. Their eyes were captivating. They stood well over 6”5 and they were hard. That was the only description I could think of. Their eyes were hard, their expressions were hard, and their bodies were like stone. I took another moment just to appreciate every defined muscle.

  “Who are your friends?” I really didn’t mean to purr the question out, but the whiskey was loosening my tongue.

  “Romanus and Rouen. They are Gargoille.”

  “They’re what?”

  “Demons,” the one on the left growled.

  “Gargoyles,” the one the right clarified, still a growl but a little less inhuman.

  “Gargoyles,” I repeated. “Fuck me.”

  The big one’s nostrils flared, and Golden Eye quirked an eyebrow.

  “I wouldn’t go throwing around offers like that, Estrella, Child of my Beloved,” Luc said, his tone bland but something in his words wiped the expression from their faces.

  “Did you just Rock Block me?” I asked Luc. “Get it? Rock Block, because they are gargoyles and turn to stone?” I began to giggle again. Dammit.

  “I get the pun. Unfortunately, that is really not how it works. They have a light sensitivity that meant they had to seek shelter from the sun in the early days, hence the myth that they turned into statues. But now they have polarized glasses. Welcome to the twenty-first century.”

  “Such a killjoy.” I sighed and sat down on the bed, picking fluff off my pink elephant pajamas. “To what do I owe this super awkward visit with your demon entourage?”

  Luc’s lip quirked. He may have been amused or pissed. One of those things was extremely bad for your health.

  “I have heard you have quit the human police force and you have plans to become some kind of red-headed vigilante.”

  I stiffened. Shit. If Luc knew, then Ace knew. They di
dn’t keep anything from each other. If Ace knew, then she would totally tell either Hope or Mom, depending on who would amuse her most at the time.

  “Who’d Ace tell?”

  Luc just smiled at me enigmatically. Asshole. But I grinned back. Somehow, I think I got all the rebellious genes. Hope, well she was something else. Pretty sure she was as close to angelic as you could get while being related to me.

  I tried to work it through. If Ace told Mom, Mom would tell all my Dads. Which meant she would tell Lux, which meant that I’d be grounded for the foreseeable future. You wouldn't think it possible to be grounded at twenty-two, while living in your own apartment, but Lux would just rock up on my doorstep and keep an eye on me. May as well as be fifteen and grounded again.

  That wouldn’t suit Ace at all. She was a rabble rouser, a bad influence and she liked nothing better than some brutal revenge. So, she’d tell Hope, who’d keep my secret but still chew me out.

  I sighed. “Dammit, Ace.”

  Whatever.

  I looked between Tall, Dark and Scary One and Two. “What’s with the lawn ornaments then?”

  The big one, I think his name was Romanus, growled again. They did that growly thing a lot. “Demon.”

  Another sigh overtook me. “Yeah, I know, Big Guy. Gargoyles. I was making a joke. Me Tarzan, you Jane.”

  The little one laughed. I had to stop calling him the little one though. He was still, like, six feet six or something.

  “Wouldn't you be Jane, and Romanus Tarzan? I’ve seen him naked. He’s definitely got the vine to swing on, if you know what I’m saying?”

  I blinked, stunned to muteness. They spoke more than single syllables? Good, I was beginning to wonder if the rocks were just in their heads. Unwillingly, my eyes dropped to the tight leather pants the big guy wore. He was indeed packing.

  “Stop staring at my dick,” Romanus growled again. I was beginning to think it was the natural timbre of his voice.

  I smirked and looked back at Luc, my eyebrow raised in question. Luc didn’t look half as amused as I felt.

  “They are here to help you. The Gargoyles are my best hunters. Hell, they are my best killers. And they will watch your back. Not that I doubt the proficiency of the Mulligan over there.” His tone insinuated that Charlie would be as useful as a snowball in hell.

  I looked between them again. “You know, most parents get their kids a pony for their birthday, not a matching set of bloodthirsty demons.”

  Luc cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “I am not your parent.”

  An uncomfortable Luc was the best kind of Luc in my opinion. If you can fuck with the Devil and get away with it, well, that was the best feeling ever. I couldn't stop.

  “Well, you're not my Daddy either, so I don’t know why you are giving me the statue of David over there.” I pointed at the shorter one, Rouen.

  “I can assure you, I am better hung than David,” Rouen said, and winked. Actually winked. And it went straight to my pussy like a heatwave. Luc’s mouth tightened into an unamused line.

  “I do not trust you not to get yourself killed. I can’t track you, and I can’t hear your thoughts, and I do not have time to babysit you while you seek your petty revenge. Consider these two your babysitters-slash-junkyard dogs.”

  “What am I supposed to do with them? What do I even feed them?”

  “I like to eat mouthy redheads,” Romanus said threateningly.

  “Not right now, big guy, we barely know each other,” I gave him a saucy wink, and Rouen laughed.

  Luc threw his hands in the air. “Ace had way too much effect on you!” He looked at the gargoyles. “Don’t let her die, or I will personally flay you alive and stake you in the demoness pit with a permanent hard on.”

  With that, he disappeared in a puff of smoke. Showoff.

  I looked over at Charlie, who was doing a pretty good impression of a statue. Charlie was tall for an Irishman, and had broad, muscular shoulders that tapered down into a narrow waist, and a cheeky grin that told a girl that it probably wouldn't be permanent, but damn it would be fun. He wasn’t cover boy handsome, but still managed to take the V-card of more than one girl in our neighborhood.

  Next to Romanus and Rouen however, he looked like a daisy next to one of those huge man-eating plants that lived in the jungle. Bad analogy. Still, I took a step back, so I was standing side by side with Charlie.

  “Are you guys gonna murder me in my sleep?” I asked Romanus.

  He grinned, and it was fucking scary as hell. “Not today.”

  Rouen leaned over and punched him in the arm. “Don’t be a jerk. Besides, I really don't wanna be staked in the demoness pit. They wear it down to a nub.” He shuddered. “Don’t worry, we were made to protect the innocent and destroy wrongdoers.”

  “Like unicorns with virgins? Sorry guys, I haven’t been innocent in a long time.”

  Rouen laughed. “I like you. No, not like unicorns, though I do have something long and hard if you wanna see it?”

  I grinned. “Not tonight, Killer. Raincheck. I’m way overdue for monster hangover.” I walked back to the bed, and climbed beneath the covers, careful to keep my butt covered. I was a smartass, but I wasn’t about to waive a red flag at a minotaur. Charlie climbed in the other side of my bed, still fully clothed.

  “No way I’m leaving you here alone with those two, I don’t care what they say,” he muttered, and I snuggled into him. We’d shared a bed so many times over the years that it was basically second nature, even though we’d never been more than friends. His smell was comforting, like soap, and man, and too much cherry cola. I loved that he thought he would be anything more than cannon fodder for the two gargoyles.

  “Thanks, Charlie,” I said and kissed his cheek.

  He sighed. “Anytime, Rella. Now go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

  Chapter Three

  The hangover was everything Mike had promised it would be. My mouth felt like it had been wrapped around a blow dryer all night. I dragged my sorry butt out of bed, trying hard not to wake Charlie. He was snoring away softly, the blankets tucked around his waist. He must have lost his shirt at some point during the night.

  It might have been the hangover, or the fact my libido has been hit with a two by four in the shape of a gargoyle, but I took a moment to appreciate Charlie the man, and not Charlie, my best friend. His shoulders were wide and strong, although he was so pale he may as well be translucent. Reddish curls spread across his chest, trailing down a pretty decent set of abs for a computer nerd and thickened where the V of his hips met the thick waistband of his denim jeans. I blinked. When had Charlie got hot? I mean, I remembered him as the scrawny teenager who couldn’t even grow a half decent moustache. Now, strawberry blonde stubble glinted across his jaw.

  I turned away and ignored the weird fact that my body was turned on by the sight of him. It was Charlie, for fucks sake. We’d shared a bath when we were four. I’d fallen off his bike and broken my arm when I was eight. He was not someone I should even consider taking to bed.

  I walked into the kitchen, gravitating toward the coffee machine like a moth to a flame. But first I chugged three bottles of water.

  I almost choked on my last gulp when I saw my two hellish housemates. Both were sitting in front of my large arched windows, the sun shining across hard muscles that gleamed as if oiled. And they were perfectly still with their eyes closed. Like statues.

  “Uh, good morning?”

  With creepy synchronization, they turned to look at me. They both slid on sunglasses.

  Rouen smiled. “Mornin’,” his voice boomed, and I winced as the noise speared through my brain. His grin told me he’d done it on purposes and I scowled.

  Romanus grunted.

  Probably not a morning person then. Me either.

  “Coffee?” I asked him. Maybe he’d be more personable with some caffeine in his system.

  He nodded. “Black.”

  “Like your soul?” I laughed, though he
just scowled again.

  “My soul is much blacker.”

  I rolled my eyes and pressed the appropriate buttons on my machine. It was the true love of my life, bringer of caffeinated goodness. I let the silence stand. I couldn’t deal with demons until I’d had at least two espressos.

  I downed the first one, feeling a lot more human as the artificial happiness rushed through my veins.

  “So, what was with the statue impression over there?”

  Rouen shrugged and set my coffee machine to latte. “When you spend centuries avoiding the sun, it’s nice to get it where you can. Besides, it gives us energy. So does moonlight, but the sun is more potent.”

  “Like Superman?” I teased.

  “Better,” Romanus answered. I wondered if he could say more than one-word sentences.

  I waggled my eyebrows at him, and he scowled. I handed him my second espresso, and he drank it in one gulp. I stared at him expectantly.

  “What?”

  “I was just hoping coffee would lighten you up a little. I’m disappointed.”

  I walked to the white fluffy rug that sat in front of the large arch windows where the gargoyles had been doing their best impressions of rocks. I called it my hangover safe space. Laying down and pressing my cheek into the soft tufts of carpet, I let out a contented sigh. I loved this spot in the morning, with the sun coming in and warming me on cold winter days. I closed my eyes and let the warmth spread along my skin. Now, to sleep.

  I could feel someone's eyes on me. I opened one eye and let out a startled yip. Rouen lay on his stomach right next to me, his face inches from my nose.

  “What the hell are you doing? And how did you move so quietly? You know what, don't answer that, just make some noise next time, or I’m getting you a cat bell.” His dual colored eyes were so close, looking intently into mine. He didn’t even blink. If I wasn't so caught up in their depths, it might have been weird.