Hell's Rejects (Hell on Earth Book 2)

by AJ Mullican

  They’re not new questions, and I’m kind of sick of the interrogation already. “For the fiftieth time, I don’t know. Asmodeus hasn’t exactly reappeared to give an explanation. All I know is I have pointy ears and opal irises, and I can see lifelines in people. I can see magic, which is the trippiest shit ever, and I had no say in the matter.”

  Oren frowns. “Do you not wish to be like us, Molli?”

  Ugh. That migraine’s about to be a real thing. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that I wasn’t given any choice. For us humans, babe, choice is super important. Like, above all else, we deserve to have a choice in how our lives work out.”

  Cherry returns with the beers, and her light flickers with—something. Damnit. I wish I could read what I’m seeing better.

  I twist open the top and chug half the beer in one fell swoop, eager for the distraction and hoping for at least a little bit of a buzz out of the deal. I belch and thump my chest to rid it of the excess bubbles. “Excuse me.”

  Rick and Billy proceed to grade my burp on its tone, resonance, and reverb, and the tension of the afternoon finally breaks a little.

  Until, that is, a knock at the plywood announces Lena’s arrival.

  Oops. I’d forgotten that we ditched her.

  I sneak a peek at the lights on the other side of the plywood as Holden gets up to answer the knock, and to my relief Lena’s light doesn’t appear to hold any anger in it. Annoyance, yes, irritation, maybe some exhaustion from the pregnancy, but her light at least tells me she’s not mad.

  She enters with her crew hot on her heels, her incubi loaded down with thrift store bags. “Thanks for the text letting us know you were here, Mol, so we didn’t waste time at the apartment complex waiting for you. ‘Preciate it.”

  I slide down in my seat and pinch the bridge of my nose. Damnit. “Sorry, Lena. I just wanted to check on Cherry.”

  “And I appreciate that.” Cherry stands and stretches, then pats her flat belly. “Oh, hey, Lena, guess who’s having twins!”

  “I hope it’s not me. I don’t have time for that shit.” Lena winces as she sits. “Congrats.”

  Samsher walks up behind Lena and rubs her shoulders. “Do you wish to lie down, my love? We can set wards around the property while you rest.”

  Her light dims, then flashes, then dims again. I blink to try to clear my eyes, but nope. It’s really happening. “Are you okay, Lena?” Oh, please tell me that’s not labor doing that. I can’t handle that kind of emergency right now.

  “Fine. I’ve just been having some pains today.”

  Before I can bug her about it further, Cherry places a hand on my sleeve, snagging my attention. “Hey, Mol? Can you come with me for a minute? I need a favor.”

  “Huh? Sure.” I pause and look back at Kalen, Finn, and Oren. Something tugs at the back of my mind, and I suddenly don’t want to leave them. Like, ever. “Mind if the guys come along?”

  “Sure. C’mon.” She leads us through the kitchen and out the back door. Once outside, Kalen draws a knife from wherever he had the damn thing hidden, and Finn and Oren whip out their own blades. I search the foliage around us with old eyes and new, but I don’t see whatever threat they’re gearing up for. No red lights to indicate a demon or demon-possessed person, not even any life-lights besides our own, the trees and bushes, and the occasional bird.

  Cherry casts a sideways glance at them, then bends down to whisper in my ear. “Is there something out there? Should I shift? I don’t smell anything off…”

  I shrug. “I don’t see anything, either. I think they’re just being cautious. Kalen?”

  He shifts his grip on the hilt and scans the tree line as we near it. “We were caught unawares twice already. I do not wish anyone else to come to harm.”

  “Well, there you go.” I wonder if we’ll ever feel safe again. Twice there’s been an attack on someone’s home turf, as it were, with one man dead, and then there was this morning’s little hiccup in the lobby of the Nowhere Inn. We can’t seem to escape these demons no matter where we go—even someplace as anonymous as a local hotel. “So where are we going?”

  “To see Geiger and my Granny Ethel. I want to tell them about the twins.”

  I come to a screeching halt. “Huh?”

  “Yeah. There’s a Hunter family plot out here a little ways. We laid Geiger to rest out there this morning, and my grandma’s been there since I met Holden and his brothers.” Cherry’s eyes gloss over, and a sad smile ghosts across her face. “Rick and Billy brought her there for me after my ex killed her. I come out there every once in a while to talk to Granny, tell her how my life’s going and stuff. Now I’ll have to keep Geiger updated, too, so he doesn’t worry.”

  Ohh-kay. Cherry talks to dead people. Sure. What else is new? “So why did you want me to come along? This seems kind of … private.”

  “Nonsense! Geiger would want you here. You saved all of us, Molli. You saved me and my pups, and you even tried to save Geiger when he was so far beyond saving. Besides, you’re the one who gave me the good news; you should be here when I tell him.”

  Despite her reassurance, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m interfering in something intensely personal. Still, I trudge along behind her through the brush, pushing aside branches and stepping over kudzu.

  When we get to the clearing, Cherry stops and kneels next to a mound of freshly-turned dirt.

  Geiger’s grave.

  I thought I’d be ready for it. I thought that Cherry gave me enough warning to prepare myself.

  Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not ready. Not ready at all.

  A strangled sound comes out of my lips, and I step back as hot tears roll down my cheeks. In the distance Kalen grabs my arm, and some part of me acknowledges that he’s trying to say something to me. The grieving part of me rises to the surface, though, and I don’t hear his words. I don’t hear anything except echoes of screams and howls, memories of the day prior when I failed to stop the hellhound in time.

  My vision flashes purple, and I blink a few times to clear it. Finn stands between me and the grave, his body shielding me from it, and his arms wrap around me, holding me to his chest. I cry into his t-shirt, grasping fistfuls of the soft fabric as hiccupping sobs shake my entire body.

  “Molli? What’s wrong?” Cherry’s voice is muffled, like she’s a million miles away.

  The words tumble out of my mouth before I know what I’m saying. “It’s all my fault. I hesitated. I wanted to wait for an opening, and they just jumped in. Just—just right over my head and into the thick of it, and if I had just acted instead of looking for the right moment—”

  “Oh, honey!” Blinding lights surround me as Oren, Kalen, and Cherry join Finn and me for a massive group hug. Cherry sniffles and rests her cheek against my head. “Molli, no one blames you! I wasn’t just talking when I said you saved us; I meant every word. You fucking killed a hellhound all on your own, which is amazing for any one of us, let alone as the only normal human of our group—well, you were human at the time. You are so amazing and brave, and I think Geiger would agree with me in naming our daughter after you.”

  “What?” I sniffle and wipe my eyes. “You’re serious?”

  “Of course! That is, if you’re okay with it…”

  I lean into her and smile. “I’d be honored.”

  Chapter 11

  I sit next to Cherry by Geiger’s grave and listen as she brings him up to speed on the day’s events. She tells him about the twins, about my weird fae transformation, and about naming the pups. She speaks with such love in her voice, and her light shines even brighter when she talks to him. Cherry even introduces me and the fae to her grandmother, whose plot sits on the other side of her deceased lover.

  While she chats, a faint red glow trickles around the far edge of the clearing, starting on the ground and rising like steam until a sparkly transparent red globe surrounds us, arcing high overhead to come to rest, I assume, on the other edge of the property. Samsher’s
wards. The effect, combined with the life-lights of the birds and bugs and plants, reminds me of being inside a snow globe.

  “Cool.”

  “Hm?” Cherry looks up from her perch by Granny Ethel.

  Oops. Forgot not everyone can see that. “Oh, nothing.”

  “Well,” she says as she gets to her feet, dusting the grave dirt off her jeans, “I guess I’m done. That’s everything I really had to tell them today.”

  When we get back to the house, Callie waits for us in the back yard. She’s got her blonde curls in a high ponytail, and her slim body is outfitted with what I can only guess are the finest workout duds the thrift store had to offer. The eighties-style neon green stirrup leggings clash horribly with the dark red tank top with the words “Cereal Killer” screen-printed across the chest, but I have to give the girl credit for her tenacity. Either she snuck these gems in the pile while her pregnant sister was distracted, or she somehow managed to convince Lena to let her continue with the backyard training sessions.

  “Hey, Molli! Guess what? I did all my stretches while you guys were in the woods.” A wide grin spreads across her pretty face, and she demonstrates some of the stretching exercises I went over yesterday.

  “Cool.” I turn to Cherry. “You up for practice? I can send Kalen to get Rick and Billy out here if you want.”

  “Sure. We could probably all stand to learn a little more of this.”

  Not that I don’t have an ulterior motive for wanting to run through exercises today, but Cherry doesn’t need to know that bit. No, I’ll keep my inspection to myself, though I gotta admit, this is the perfect opportunity to study Callie from a life-touched point of view.

  Since there are four “students” and four fae “teachers,” I divvy up the class so we each have some one-on-one time, keeping Callie with me. On the surface, all I’m doing is teaching her the basics of the beginning movements, but with my new eyesight I study every aspect of her life-light, from the youthful teenage vigor and brilliance to the funny red haze over the infernal tattoos.

  I wonder if she knows there’s a trace amount of magic in her ink, and I wonder if she could access that magic in an emergency. From what I understand, Callie’s had some basic magic training, but Lena said it was mostly just theoretical. Still, it might be worth mentioning to Big Sis if it’s something that could save Callie’s life in a pinch.

  The more I look at Callie, the more nuance I’m able to pick out with my new abilities. Her joints have a mild dimming to them, roughly the same amount as Cherry or Billy or Rick, maybe a little more, which might be a hint of the aging process that Lena reversed. If Callie was older than mid-twenties for a little while, it might’ve affected the joints. She’s also had a few months of growing since then, and I make a mental note to figure out a surreptitious way to check out another teenager’s joints for comparison.

  There’s also a weird dim horizontal line in her hair, and when I think back on the forensics shows I’ve seen on TV, I guesstimate that it’s right about the level her roots would have been at when she was aged. Bingo. It’s like looking at the rings on a tree, and I bet if I had some of her hair with the root attached I could Forensic Files the shit out of it with my magic.

  I move behind Callie to help her with her form, and that’s when I notice a tattoo that I haven’t seen on her before. She usually leaves her long hair down, so this one was hidden. It glows brighter than the others and is much more ornate in its shape and design. A long, twisty coil spirals out from a central point between her shoulder blades, speared at equal intervals by radiating spikes. A quick count reveals twelve of the jagged lines. Do they represent hours? Months, maybe? Years? Can’t tell yet, but if I was a gambling woman, I’d wager this symbol was used as a focal point for the aging spell.

  But baby Bradley didn’t have any tattoos, so that doesn’t make sense. Unless…

  Shit. I bet he does. I mean, if I had a baby who’d been kidnapped and subjected to God-knows-what, I wouldn’t want something like infant tattoos showing for just anyone. What would the neighbors think?

  Next mental note: ask Lena if she’s ever seen this or a similar mark on Bradley.

  With my inspection done for now, I run Callie and the others through some cool-down stretches before claiming exhaustion and retiring to Rick and Billy’s room with Kalen, Finn, and Oren. Cherry informs us that we have a couple of hours to nap before dinner, but I don’t plan on napping.

  I plan on discussing my findings with the others.

  I wait for Cherry’s footsteps to fade, then click the lock into place.

  “Okay, guys. Here’s the lowdown.” They listen in silence as I go over what I discovered. “But I’m not sure how any of that helps us figure out how to stop the aging from happening, and without that, we can’t stop the possessions.”

  “Perhaps we could work with Elena and study the tattoo on her sister. Dissect the magic in the symbol, and work from there.” Oren rubs his chin. “It is possible that we can devise a fae counter to the spell if we can just determine the mechanics behind the spell itself.”

  Hm. “I wish I had this magic when Bradley was over. I feel like I need to see someone else who’s been through the process.” It would be interesting to see if he’s got the same minute changes in the joints, the same leftover demonic magics in his body. I hate to think of the possibility of all the aged babies having permanent joint damage from this. Not to mention the tattoos! From what Lena and the incubi have told us, they’re not removable even with magic.

  Or are they? Fae magic has a different origin than demonic magic. Could I remove the tattoos somehow? I need more time alone with Callie to find out.

  “Molli? Are you all right?”

  “Huh?” I blink at Kalen. “What do you mean?”

  He points at my hand, which has drifted to my abdomen of its own accord. “You hold your stomach. Are you feeling ill?”

  “No…” But it’s not my stomach I’m holding. My mind has drifted from the task at hand, off on a tangent spawned by the idea that I can remove old magics with my new magic. Old magic, done by another’s hand … like the magic that sterilized me in Faerie.

  Maybe I could practice by removing that…

  Am I ready to remove it?

  Damnit. Like I needed this kind of choice in my life right now.

  “I’m fine, Kalen. Just tired, I guess. Maybe we should take Cherry up on that offer to let us nap for a while.”

  Kalen pulls me against his chest and leans back, propping himself up on the headboard. “Rest, then, my love. Sleep if you need. We will watch over you.” Oren and Finn stretch out on either side of me, cuddling their heads up to my chest. Their arms wrap around me, and I trail my fingers through their silky hair, the motion hypnotizing me into a state of relaxation. My eyelids flutter shut, and I sink into their cuddly embrace.

  ***

  When my eyes open, I find myself back in Faerie, standing outside Rhiannon’s flower-covered hut. The fae woman stands with her pale hair and skin glistening in the fae moonlight—Did I sleep through dinner?—and her opal gaze pierces into my very soul.

  “So, you have returned a human no longer,” she says, her lilting Irish accent reminiscent of my fae lovers’. “Fae now you are, but is it fae you wish to remain?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “My dear, there is always a choice. The question is, do you have the strength to choose?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She smiles and turns back to her hut. “You will. In time. For now, rest, and let the troubles of the day drift into nothingness.”

  ***

  I jerk awake when Cherry knocks on the door. “Molli? It’s almost time for dinner. I hope you like chicken.”

  My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast.

  God, that was forever ago.

  I wake Oren and Finn with Kalen’s help, nudging them off me gently. “C’mon, guys. Up and at ‘em. Dinner’s on.”

/>   Finn groans and snuggles in closer. “Can we dine here? I do not want to move.”

  “Get your face out of my boob and get up!” I giggle as he peeks up at me with a devious grin. “Come on! I’m starving.”

  I guess we weren’t the only ones napping, because Lena and two of her incubi stumble out of Cherry’s room right behind us, yawning and stretching. I note that Lena’s light shines brighter, the periodic dimming from earlier gone now.

  Okay, so maybe they didn’t sleep much while they were in there. I keep forgetting where Lena gets her magic.

  Everyone gathers in the living room, where someone set up extra chairs and tables. I sit between Oren and Finn, eager for a solid meal. I can’t remember the last time I had a homecooked dinner, and it’s high time I get my grub on.

  So why, then, when Cherry sets the plate in front of me, do I gag at the sight of the meal?

  This is ridiculous. I’m hungry! Why can’t I make myself stab the chicken breast with my fork?

  I decide to start with the potatoes instead, and dive into them with vigor. Nope, it’s not my stomach. I can eat those just fine. Corn? Yep. Devoured. So what’s up with the chicken? Surely I can eat it now that I’ve whet my appetite with the other stuff…

  But no. Once again, I aim my fork at the chicken, and once again, my gag reflex surges.

  Shit.

  I turn to Oren, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Is there something wrong with this food? I can’t seem to make myself eat the meat.”

  He looks from the food to me and back again. “Oh! I seem to recall Rhiannon having this same problem. She could not eat that which had once taken breath. In Faerie, where we could conjure our own foods and it was not customary to consume meat, it was not of concern. Here, though? I wonder if your transformation is having the same effect.”

  I can’t eat meat now?

  This fucking sucks.

  Chapter 12

  After eating Finn, Oren, and Kalen’s corn and potatoes, my hunger finally quiets. I’m still bummed about the chicken, though. Lena babbles something about a life-death balance, and how my connection to life probably bars me from eating dead flesh, but I can’t be bothered to pay attention right now.