HELLISH DEBTS: BROKEN GODS BOOK ONE

by Brook Rogers

  “That was too close.” Conall handed one of the bags to Dubhlain.

  “Be no more portals today,” he conceded, giving himself a shake. After wiping the sweat from his face with his shirt collar, Dubhlain hooked the bag over one shoulder.

  We all faced outward to survey the landscape. I saw nothing, but voices floated to me every now and then, probably from one of the other mining camps.

  I found it curious that the men’s portal magic was limited. Megan could use hers several times in a row before becoming depleted. Not only that, but they had combined their power with the telling color of a blood bond. These berserkers were chock-full of intriguing mysteries. Brothers indeed.

  The Manticore’s trail was easy to follow once we located the remainder of ear I had hacked off. The puddles of blood had already dried to a dark brown, and who knew how long its wounds would continue bleeding, but it gave us a solid start in the right direction.

  We spread out in a loose line, Dubhlain on my right, Bran on my left, and Conall on Dubhlain’s other side. Since the Manticore had several hours’ head start, we set a fast pace.

  “So what’s the rundown on our beastie?” Conall asked as we jogged along.

  Dubhlain ticked off on his fingers. “Teeth, claws, and it’s huge. Standard fare, except for the tail. Gotta admit, that’s a new one.”

  “Don’t get skewered by projectile ass-spears—check. Any weaknesses?” Bran chimed in.

  I snickered. It was hard not to like Bran. He brought a lot of levity to our little group.

  A muscle ticked in Dubhlain’s jaw at Bran’s remark, so I decided to intervene. “It’s got a sore ear and one less toe, but I think we should concentrate on the eyes. Blinding it would give us the best advantage when it comes to keeping casualties down. It doesn’t need to see to follow the stone.”

  “I like the way you think,” Conall said. Immediately, he gained some points in my book.

  Bran smiled. “Not just another pretty face after all.” And Bran lost some.

  Dubhlain growled menacingly, and I hid my smile. Bran’s smug expression didn’t slip, but he noticeably widened the gap between us as we walked. So berserkers were also possessive? Oh, I was going to have fun with that.

  It wasn’t long before we came across some of the Manticore’s gruesome leavings. What remained of a small mining camp lay broken and scattered in the dirt before us. A pool of congealing blood and a severed leg—complete with muddy boot still attached—were the only signs of the inhabitants. The camp’s small sluice had been overturned in the creek, and churned mud marked multiple places along the bank. It took a bit before we picked up the trail on the opposite side. The blood was significantly fresher now.

  After the grisly discovery, our lighthearted banter died out. We trudged along in somber silence, knowing the body count would only rise before we caught up to the stone’s guardian.

  The Hell Plane had its share of truly bad individuals, but decent folks lived here too. People like Shereen, who were just trying to make the best out of whatever hand life dealt them. Even the vilest inhabitants of the Hell Plane didn’t necessarily deserve the death and destruction coming at them like a runaway freight train.

  I shuddered. If the Queen succeeded in opening the gates, the carnage that came from the Underworld would make the Manticore seem like a playful puppy.

  The blood trail eventually disappeared—luckily in a stretch of loose dirt, where we were able to continue on by following the footprints alone. Those tracks faded out all too soon though, on a large rocky shelf that extended far into the distance.

  I took my pack off and handed it to Bran. Three sets of eyes watched me while I stripped off my weapons. It made my throat a little dry to have their undivided attention—as if I were a bug in a jar. My khopesh came off last, and I passed it to Dubhlain with a hard look. He’d better take care of it.

  “What are you doing?” Conall asked.

  I gave him a flat stare. No sense in telling when I could just show them.

  Giving control to my raven, I took a running leap and launched into the purple sky. I made ever widening circles, using her superior vision to search for any sign of the beast—like a patch of medium-sized shrubs to the west that appeared to have been trampled. As soon as I returned to the men and ditched my wings, we headed off in that direction. Confirmation that we were going the right way came when we found a pile of cooling excrement so large it could only belong to the Manticore.

  Rinse and repeat until the solid rock gave way to more loose dirt and visible tracks. My muscles burned from the constant flying, so I stayed in my raven form and rode on Dubhlain’s shoulder. It was the least he could do, since I was covering twice as much distance as they were. Once, during one of my return trips, I tried to light on Bran, but a low growl from the man beside him made me change course. It didn’t appear to bother Bran too much though; he chuckled and kept walking.

  When dusk fell and the spreading darkness made it difficult for us to navigate, Dubhlain slapped his druid light rune, and we all soldiered on. The expected sounds of insects and nocturnal animals seemed unnaturally diminished. I ruffled my feathers, trying to dislodge the foreboding that danced invisible fingers over my body.

  At one point we intersected a road. Like other wild things, the Manticore preferred the path of least resistance, so we found ourselves plodding down a well-worn trail. Before long, from up ahead, panicked shouting broke the stillness.

  I shifted back and exchanged apprehensive glances with the guys, then we all broke into full-out sprints.

  Chapter 17

  Heart pounding, I skidded into a small settlement. Smoke boiled up from several burning, partially collapsed buildings, and people ran frantically in all directions, either attempting to put out the flames or digging through the rubble. A woman with soot stains on her face and dirty hair held a small body to her chest, rocking and sobbing. Her haunting cries pierced the night. Other bodies lay scattered down the street.

  We hadn’t made it in time.

  Conall grabbed the arm of a man running by with a bucket of water. “What happened?”

  The man’s face was set in grim lines. “Some godsdamned abomination came through town. Ate anyone who didn’t move fast enough. Made a mess of everything else.”

  “How long ago?” Dubhlain asked.

  Someone across the street called out and raised an arm, and the man began moving off in that direction. “Just after the suns set.”

  I watched as he ran away, water sloshing from his bucket.

  “We aren’t far behind,” Bran mused.

  An unharmonious twang suddenly vibrated in my chest, as if the bond was sending out some kind of distress signal. A knot writhed and pulsed inside me—with sadness and a simmering anger. Those souls had been cut down for nothing more than not knowing the danger. The sadness mirrored my own.

  But the anger . . .

  I slid a peek at Dubhlain. His face remained passive, but his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. I must be getting what he was feeling through the mark.

  I hadn’t noticed anything like that before. Even when he’d lost control to the berserker, there’d been nothing. Was he projecting? Or was this the evolution of the bond? It was uncomfortable, but I didn’t know how to make it stop. I just had to ignore it; there wasn’t time for anything else.

  “We should help them recover their dead,” Conall said. The shadows that lurked in his eyes made me pause. He had to know the pain of loss intimately to look so haunted.

  But the more time we spent here, the farther away the Manticore was getting, possibly endangering more innocents. The bond became agitated again. It was as if I was being pulled in two directions at once—to follow the monster or stay and help the people here.

  Dubhlain made the decision for us. “Raywen and I will continue after the Manticore. You and Conall stay to aid the townspeople.” He inclined his head toward Bran, then added, “Be doing it quick. We’re getting close, and i
t will take us all. Catch up when you’re done.”

  The men nodded and walked away, appearing to grow in size as they went. Up to now, we had worked as a group. A hive mind, so to speak. But Bran and Conall hadn’t so much as batted an eye when Dubhlain issued his orders just now. Did they ultimately defer to him? Conall was the oldest—why wasn’t he in charge?

  It was another curious layer to the relationship these berserker’s had with one another. Dubhlain didn’t know it, but unlike his brothers, I would not be blindly following whatever he dictated.

  He and I walked out of the little settlement. I glanced back once and saw another woman trying to comfort the wailing mother, whose cries had not ceased the entire time we’d been there.

  Hot tears sprang to my eyes, but I beat them back. This wasn’t the time or the place to give in to the emotions swirling inside me. I would gather them and use them for fuel, and I would stop this from happening again.

  The signs left by the monstrous man-lion became more prominent after it left the town, allowing us to move faster than we previously had. We covered a lot of ground.

  Taking the opportunity that being alone presented, I decided to break the heavy silence. “Can you feel me?”

  He gave me a sideways glance but kept moving.

  “Through the bond, I mean,” I clarified. He didn’t answer right away, choosing to make me wait instead.

  I’d spent the entire day without a single cup of hot anything. No coffee. No hot chocolate. I’d almost died twice, and my patience was dangerously thin. When he finally did answer, I was mentally ticking off all the ways I could incapacitate him and leave him behind.

  “I only felt you once—when the Fae Queen attacked you.”

  Sighing irritably, I walked a little ahead of him. The bond was developing then, apparently more on my end than his.

  A crackling brought my attention back to the road; a blue light bobbed in the darkness off to my right. I slowed, and Dubhlain stepped even with me. He cranked the brightness of his light rune up, and we scanned the scrubby bushes. The mysterious light hovered just outside the illuminated ring.

  Dubhlain had already pulled a pair of pistols out of his bag. With a small chopping motion, he indicated for me to go check things out.

  That authoritarian attitude annoyed the hell out of me. But he got points for not trying to coddle or shield me in situations where I suspected most men would. I had to admit, his confidence in my ability to hold my own was pretty fucking hot.

  Even so, I chewed the inside of my lip, debating. Leaving the road would be a colossally bad idea. The Manticore had clearly stayed on it. But maybe this was important too? We couldn’t just keep walking and ignore it.

  Next time, though, it would be his turn to go first. I’d make sure of that.

  I stepped cautiously off the road where Dubhlain had signaled—and immediately found myself entranced.

  A cloud of peacefulness drifted over me, soothing my taut nerves. All concerns I’d been carrying suddenly felt small and silly. Sweet floral notes tickled my nose, like the heady aroma of honeysuckles at the height of summer. The darkness of night gave way to a beautiful sunrise, ripe with pinks and purples.

  A slender woman in a simple white tunic stood on the other side of a trickling stream, her back to me. She was picking wildflowers in a large green field, and her long pale hair stirred in a breeze that didn’t reach me. Turning, she happily beckoned for me to join her. The urge to go felt as natural as breathing air. I tried to step toward her, but something was wrong.

  My legs were leaden, and every movement took massive effort. I glanced up. She was motioning more excitedly now—I needed to hurry. Why weren’t my legs working?

  Snippets of sound broke in—like radio stations as the tuner slid past them, jarring and completely at odds with the tranquility here. Was someone calling my name? Just as quickly as it had come, that thought floated away like fog in the wind.

  I needed to reach the woman. I tried again to move but remained stuck.

  A light flashed in front of me, and suddenly she was there. She took my hand in hers, and the weight bogging down my legs instantly vanished. The woman led me to a soft patch of grass and pulled me down to sit. Her cool hand caressed my cheek, our faces so close the soft puffs of her breath ghosted over my lips.

  She pushed lightly on my chest, and I lay back. Grass tickled my neck and ears as I looked up at her. With one feather-light finger, she traced my collarbone, and I watched her tongue dart out to lick her bottom lip. A shudder passed through me, along with an overwhelming desire to please her. Whatever she wanted I’d do it; my obedience to her was complete.

  She walked those fingers deftly down my breastbone, approval shining from her eyes. My heart leaped with joy. Her delicate touch circled my belly button, then continued to slide lower. Just as she grazed the band of my panties, a loud voice broke through the fog in my brain.

  Someone was yelling my name repeatedly.

  Though I didn’t consciously move it, my hand reached up to pin hers in place. Those honey-brown eyes promised pleasures I’d never known, but when I didn’t release my grip, storm clouds gathered in her gaze. Sorrow burst over me that she wasn’t pleased anymore.

  And then agony erupted where our hands met. She’d buried her claws in my stomach.

  I screamed as she made a fist and things inside me tore loose. A rushing filled my ears, and my next breath tasted of burned sugar. Fae magic. The woman’s face distorted, her pupils narrowing to black slits.

  I flashed back to the dragon’s eyes at the moment he came in for the kill. Fear and adrenaline flooded me.

  The pressure inside my head grew—only this time, I didn’t have to make any effort to get it to do my bidding. It moved fluidly into my other palm and coalesced into a white orb. Gripping the wrist of what was no longer a beautiful woman but a leathery-faced demon, I began to slowly withdraw its claws.

  Shards of pain blistered my innards, and sweat broke out on my forehead and upper lip while I gained inch after slow inch. When the demon’s claws finally slid free of my flesh, I raised the orb and shoved it into his sternum.

  A bright burst of light and energy stung my eyes and sent me reeling backward. I raised an arm to protect my face, but that stupidly blocked my sight, and a heavy weight settled over me. At the same moment, the inevitable wave of exhaustion hit, and I crumpled. Someone had me in a net.

  This was all going terribly wrong.

  Chapter 18

  Dubhlain was holding a demon and elf at gunpoint. The elf’s pointed ears peeked out through his short sheaf of brown hair, and the demon blinked his slitted eyes at me. A cold chill tripped its way down my spine, sending barbs of hurt reverberating through my front.

  The demon that had tried to eviscerate me lay on the ground—dead. His ribcage was completely sprung open, with a gaping hole where his heart and lungs had been. The scene reminded me of that sci-fi movie where the baby aliens hatch from human hosts.

  Note to self: power orbs are explode-y.

  I stood on legs made of Jell-O and struggled to find my way out of the net. It was made of thick, heavy rope, and my arms already weighed two tons. I must have resembled a weak, angry kitten, clawing and cursing my way awkwardly out of the trap.

  Dubhlain remained rooted where he was, although I could have sworn he huffed a laugh at one point.

  Finally kicking myself free, I shuffled to stand behind and slightly to the side of him. He stood at the edge of the road, glaring angrily over his gun barrels at the two men. I didn’t need to pull my own pistols. He had them covered just fine, and I wouldn’t have been able to hold the guns steady anyway.

  Gods, this new power was draining. It had saved my life several times now, but at a high price. Magic was a bitch like that.

  “You okay, lass?” Dubhlain asked gruffly.

  I ran a hand over the punctures in my lower abdomen. They pulled sharply with every movement, stealing my breath. But I wasn’t dying, so I
told him I was good.

  Dubhlain’s eyes stayed on the men. “That one”—he tipped his head fractionally at the elf—“used the glamour on you. I kept yelling your name, but you wouldn’t answer, and that damn demon put you between us every time I tried to get a shot. When you started screaming, it distracted me, and they launched the net. Somebody”—he squinted accusingly at the two men—“took some swings and got lucky.”

  Sure enough, he was sporting a black eye and split lip. Frankly, I wanted to take some swings at him myself. It would be a cold day here in the Hell Plane before I went first again.

  Clipped footsteps came from behind us, and Bran and Conall walked into view. They immediately moved in and frisked the men for weapons, but they found only a rather pitiful stash. The elf had a rusty flintlock pistol that had to have spent time aboard a pirate ship, and the demon had a utility knife. For hit men, they weren’t very prepared.

  Dubhlain lowered his guns. I wobbled a little, but the burn in my guts locked my legs, keeping me from doing anything embarrassing—like falling over. Conall and Bran began to interrogate the would-be murderers.

  The tall, slender elf appeared terrified and full of remorse. The demon was a little harder to read, but neither of them seemed to be hardened mercenaries by any stretch of the imagination.

  “The Queen cast me out, along with a lot of other Fae. She sent us to work in the mines. Last night, we heard that whatever she was searching for had been found.” The elf’s shoulders drooped. “At first, I thought we would finally be allowed to return home, but instead, everyone was rounded up and marched out. Nobody would tell us where we were going. When we began to drop from exhaustion, we bedded down in that little town. An enormous creature attacked in the middle of the night. Some of us didn’t make it.” He sank further into himself.

  “Why’d you jump us?” Dubhlain asked.

  The Fae’s head snapped up, tears welling in his eyes. “The Queen has my wife and daughter. She said if I didn’t stop everyone on the road, she’d have them executed.”