Hell is a Harem: Book 3

by Kim Faulks

  Street after street, I worked my way home. The place still felt deserted and haunted after months of living in that dingy apartment building with Alma, and as I swung the nose of the car around the corner of my street and tapped the brakes—I wanted nothing more than to go back there.

  To the life I once had. The life with Alma Goodchild.

  The garage door lifted. I glanced at the sleek building, rich with polished surfaces and cold glass. I pulled to a stop next to a towering Ford Raptor. This was not a job for the fast-paced Maserati, it was a job for brute strength and a reinforced chassis.

  The roller door stayed open as I snatched the pages from the file, killed the engine, and climbed from the car. Seconds felt like hours…minutes like lifetimes, as I opened the connecting door and stepped into the house.

  It wasn’t a home yet. Soulless and empty, no matter how many warm timber surfaces and lush green leaves. The echo of my footsteps was haunting…just like my life…ever since Lorn left me.

  Ever since I betrayed her trust.

  I climbed the stairs and strode toward the master bedroom at the end of the hall. The jacket was off, cufflinks and shirt next. I left them in a trail behind me like the dead as I stepped into the expansive walk-in closet and stopped.

  One half was filled, the other half empty. There’d be no dresses, no gowns, no other person in my life. I’d tried it once, after Lorn left…I tried to move on and be normal with a young coyote shifter called Jackie. And yet every time I looked at her, all I saw was Lorn, and seeing Jackie just made me want Lorn even more.

  I yanked on a t-shirt, black combat pants, shoulder holster, and utility belt before reaching for my boots.

  The vampire, Capture, would be already on the road…he was at least another six hours away from Greenwich City than I was. On the back roads, I could pull ahead—but he’d have a head start, and the sick bastard was already ready to rock and roll. One quick bite of the neck and he’d be running, gunning his engine, desperate for the hunt.

  I lifted my gaze to the full-length mirror and stared into haunted eyes.

  Why! Why protect him? Haunting words filled my head, and in an instant, I was back there, carving through warriors of my kind as we broke through the seal into the Unseelie world.

  Morpheous had been my brother in the Unseelie Army…and a friend, who died protecting a vile cancer of the Unseelie royal line—Absolon.

  Why, Morpheous! Tell me why…

  The warrior looked at me, blood spilling down his chest. It was a mortal wound, made from my own blade.

  Because he’s all we have, Morpheous answered as his knees buckled.

  I turned to the blank wall at the end of the closet. I pressed a hidden button and a panel slid back, revealing an electronic lock. Eight digits later and the wall slid down, revealing rows of weapons.

  A black bag sat on the small ledge at the bottom. I gripped the handles, opened the center, and filled the well. Pistols, magazines, grenades, an automatic rifle, and then the pages from the file…pages I hadn’t really looked at yet, all went into the bag.

  There was no way Capture was finding her…there was no way he was going to touch a hair on her head.

  The woman was mine.

  Always had been…and always will be.

  No matter who she gave her heart to.

  I reset the button as I heaved the bag free and strode from the room. Heavy boots pounding on the stairs, I was already out into the garage before movement caught my eye.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Hairs rose on the back of my neck, the voice cold…stony…and dangerous. I never stopped, never gave him a second of my time. If the bastard wanted blood, then it was blood I’d give him…

  But it wouldn’t be my own.

  “Do you know where she is?” The hellhound stepped out from the shadows, dark eyes flickering with orange flames. He took one look at my clothes, and then my bag… “You’re going after her? You going to kill the woman you love?”

  My hand stilled on the passenger’s door handle. Don’t stop…you don’t owe him fucking shit. He left her…left her with this fucking mess. He’s as much to blame as you are.

  “You really are a cold Unseelie bastard, aren’t you?”

  His words were a knife plunged into my heart. I didn’t like him…didn’t like him one fucking bit. But it had been the fucking hound who came for me that night.

  And it was the hound who risked it all to save them from the Unseelie Hell.

  Do it, the bastard’s words nailed me to the spot. Do it if it’ll make you feel better. If it gets you moving, if it gets us one step fucking closer to saving them…then go your fucking hardest.

  I shook my head, words spilled from my mouth. “I don’t have time for this.”

  Desperation mingled with pain, foul and forbidding like a poison…I knew that scent well. He strode closer, cutting alongside the sports car to grasp my shirt and lean close. “Then fucking make time. Where is she? Tell me now, or so help me fucking Lucifer, I’ll burn you alive.”

  Just like Lorn…all fucking fire and flames…I glared down at his fists. “Get your hands off me.”

  There was a flicker of agony in his eyes, one buried so deep there was no digging it out. “I let her go,” he whimpered and dropped his hands, then stared at the crumpled mess on my chest. “She told me to make a choice, her or Lucifer…so I let her go.”

  Jesus fucking Christ, no wonder she went rogue. “The Archangel?”

  Not even the cop, Titus, was there for her.

  There was a tiny shake of his head, and I knew then…knew she was all alone with her pain…all alone with her demons. I know what that felt like, when this world felt far too small. She couldn’t run fast enough.

  So she’d learn to fight.

  More importantly, to kill. She was learning to kill, and not in a purposeful way, in a cold, nonbeating-heart way…she was already dying on the inside—and now she wanted the flesh to follow.

  I turned away from him. He could help me no more. “Then this is on all of us…everyone who left her…everyone who betrayed her—everyone who knew she was bleeding on the inside and refused to help her. Well, now she’s helping herself. They’re coming for her. Men who are colder and more violent than I am…men who won’t hesitate to extinguish Lucifer’s line with the cut of a sword, and I’ve wasted far too much time explaining this to you.”

  I tore my gaze from his and strode to the driver’s side of the Raptor. I pulled open the door and climbed in before punching the keys home and twisting.

  “Give me something,” Rival snarled. “Give me fucking something!”

  I hit the button and wound down the passenger’s window. He could help…even if it meant he might reach her before I did. “Betty found a record outlining three members of the Nine. Lorn’s just killed one of them and I’m betting she’s on her way to the others. There’s a mention of a high-ranking official, but no name. Find him. Search every record, crush every fucking rock, look at Senators, any government official, movie stars, celebrities, anything that even smells like betrayal, and murder…and Unseelie. You have my number and I have yours. I’ll call if I find her.”

  I shoved the truck into gear and tapped the accelerator. The Raptor pulled forward, mounting the drive, and then pulled out onto the road. The garage door was already lowering, sensor-driven the moment I pulled out of the space.

  There was a flash of midnight as the hound took off, racing into nowhere. Find him, Rival…find them all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lorn

  The jagged sound of rushed breaths drew me closer…black turned into gray, lightening and lifting as I floated closer to the surface.

  Fingers moved, creeping out…searching for warm bodies next to me. Titus…Gabriel…Rival…Redemption…their names were a constant. I drew a breath and searched for them…and instead of sweat and sex, there was the smell of blood.

  Blood…

  The boom of a shotgun ricocheted in
side my head.

  Eyes snapped open to the darkened room.

  And with consciousness came the roar of pain. Stabbing, grinding, twisting metal shards through my thigh. I whimpered and lifted my head. Dark comers…dark space…and then movement.

  “Hey there, sleepyhead,” the woman murmured, and stepped closer. “You remember where you are?”

  Sunlight on my face. The feeling of freedom for a second before…before blood…before agony. Gunshot to my thigh, and the screams…all the screams closing in on me. Henry Mughausser. His wide eyes were filled with terror, right before I poured all my hate and rage into hellfire toward him.

  My pulse skipped and then raced to catch up. Reflex moved in as I pushed my heel into the mattress and shoved higher on the bed.

  The roar of agony was blinding, stars detonated behind my eyelids.

  “Easy there,” the shifter murmured and stepped closer. “No one’s gonna hurt you.”

  She glanced at my cheek and then my thigh. “Looks like you did a good enough job on your own. I’m Stacie. Stacie Fletcher. Shifter, yes, cougar if you need to know.”

  Panicked, I stared around the room.

  “You came in here looking for a bathroom. I thought you just needed a place to clean up, but you didn’t look so hot. When you didn’t answer me, I broke the damn latch, and you were passed out on the floor. You’re still here, by the way…the Den it’s called, run by my boyfriend, Snatch…”

  I flinched. Snatch? Slow thoughts caught on the one fucking thing she told me that was useless.

  “Yeah, don’t even ask. It’s a stupid joke, and if you stand still long enough the old geezer will tell it more than once. We have rooms in the back of the Den, a place for someone to crash…or hide out, if they need.”

  Hide out…gotta get outta here…my car…they’ll find it.

  “It’s all good, your car is out back in the garage. No one’s gonna find it.”

  “How long?”

  “A day, honey. You were out when I found you. I dug out that bullet and packed it with gauze.”

  I dropped my eyes to the bandage around my thigh and then met her gaze.

  “Why?” It was the only question unanswered. “Why help me?”

  She gave a shrug and then stepped to the edge of the bed and sat down. “Second chances, I suppose. I was like you once, needed somewhere to wash away the blood. Snatch gave me a second chance…and well, here we are.”

  Second chances…how were they with third and fourth chances? How were they with perpetual bad choices and crossed lines. How were they when the very laws they pledged to uphold, they ended up breaking themselves.

  How were they when they lost themselves.

  How were they when they realized they could never go back.

  Not to their home.

  Not to the ones they loved.

  Not to their kin…ever…ever again.

  “I need to get out of here,” I muttered, and stared at the thick white bandage around my thigh. I was still in my shirt and underwear, but my jeans were gone. “My jeans.”

  “Over there, had to wash them three times to get the smell of blood out.” She stood up from the bed and crossed the small room.

  She was nice…too nice, and the longer I stayed here, the more they were at risk. If mortals found them, they’d come in guns drawn…

  Something else crowded the recesses of my mind…not just humans—hunter’s now, too. They’d be coming. Shifters or not…they’d spill blood, just to get to me.

  I clenched my jaw, fisted the sheets, and then tried to move my legs. Agony roared, driving through my thigh and into my hip. I swallowed the scream, dragging my foot toward the edge of the bed.

  “You are one determined bitch, I’ll give you that,” Stacie murmured, and then held out my jeans and my car keys. “Can’t take your car. They’ll have stop points on each side of the city. Here,” she turned and grabbed a cap from the dresser, “use this to cover your hair. There’s an old pickup out back, rusted all to hell, but you can’t kill the engine. You’re welcome to it, if it’ll get you where you need to go.”

  “And my car?”

  She shook her head. “I know a guy who knows a guy, he can strip it down, sell it for parts, and poof, like that you’ll disappear.”

  Disappearing sounded nice…real nice. Right after eight more bodies were piled at my feet…and the hag…don’t forget the hag. I leaned as far forward, and then winced. Stacie stepped closer, “here let me help.”

  I could do nothing but watch as she sank to the floor, gripped my jeans and eased them over my feet and along my legs.

  Boots were next. She gripped them, easing my feet into each one before she rose. I struggled, pulling them high on my thighs as she bent, and grabbed my pack.

  “Thank you,” I shoved against the bed. The pain was savage, ebbing and rising as I stood, fumbling with my zipper and button and then grasped my pack. “Thank you for everything.”

  She gave a nod and then took a slow step toward the door. “If you can walk, then you can run…maybe you’ll have half a damn chance out there. That mortal you killed…he hurt you?”

  I flinched, boots scuffed the floor. “Yes, killed my mom and my grandmother, wants to force my father to kneel.”

  “I’d like to see that,” she murmured and then turned toward me. Gold blazed in midnight eyes as she held mine. “I’d very much like to see them try to make the Lord of Hell kneel.”

  She went to the door, turned the knob, and stepped outside. I swallowed hard, bore down on my leg and felt the muscle cramp…if I can walk, then I can run…if I can walk…then I can run…

  Her words drove me forward. I swallowed the scream and the anger as the faint sound of rock filtered through from the bar.

  The music came from the left of a storage room, but Stacie turned right and headed for a door on the other side. I braced myself against the wall, driving one foot out in front of the other, hobbling more than walking.

  My thigh tensed, pinching and pulsing, shuddering my knee with each step. I gripped my car keys and stumbled after her.

  “Just through here,” she murmured, and held open a door to the back of the building.

  I inhaled the stench off the alley and stifled the urge to gag.

  “Stinks, huh? Keeps us safe, though, harder to track.” Stacie stepped across an empty courtyard and up to a garage. She fished into her pocket for a set of keys. “The back of this garage takes you one street over. If you head right and then take the first left, you’ll find Crescent Way and that will take you all the way out of the city.”

  Tears pricked my eyes. I could say it was the goddamn pain but that’d be a lie. It was her, the way she never asked, never questioned—never judged.

  Any other time, I might’ve called her friend. I might’ve held onto this connection, somehow. I took a step and grasped her arm. “Thank you, for everything.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she muttered, red flushing to her cheeks as she glanced at my thigh. “You’ll need to keep an eye on that. I dug out the bullet, but you can still get infected. I smelled pain and purpose on you the moment you stepped through the door. Do what needs to be done, Lorn. Do what needs to be done and then figure out how to find a little peace, and when you do…when your soul rests a little easier, come back and find me. Maybe then I can rest a little easier, too.”

  I nodded, finding the echo of my own torment in her eyes. “I will. I’ll make it my mission.”

  She lifted a small set of keys toward me and then motioned to an old beat-up white pickup at the end of the garage. My Corolla sat next to it, windows down, just the way I’d left it.

  “You want to get moving, the longer you stay here, the more that will eventually come. We’ll hold them off for as long as we can. Snatch don’t like humans or hunters comin’ around his place. But there’s only so many threats, you understand?”

  I gave a nod and grasped the keys from her hand. I understood all too well. There was only so lon
g you could hold back the tide, and it was rising, swelling to a tsunami right before my eyes.

  They were coming for me. They were all coming for me, the only question was how many of the Nine I could take down before they caught me.

  Jerry…the name ricochet like a bullet through my brain. I clenched the keys in my fist and then went to the trunk of the Corolla.

  Sweat dripped down my neck to my spine by the time I’d grabbed the go bag filled with guns and hauled my stuff into the back seat of the pickup. I climbed into the driver’s seat, shoved the key into the ignition, and started the engine.

  The damn thing was a beast, coughing and sputtering, filling the garage with thick gray smoke. The garage door behind me shuddered and then rolled upwards.

  Stacie gave a nod and then a wave as I shoved the truck into gear and slowly backed out. For a second, I didn’t want to leave. I had no home to go to…no one waiting for me anymore.

  Rival made his choice, as did Gabriel…Titus was the only one depending on me, trapped in his own hell. I tapped the brakes, and listened to the squeal before the pickup lurched forward.

  I followed her directions and kept the cap low with my red hair piled under it. I looked more like a guy than anything now. With gaunt eyes and a dirty shirt, I blended in better than I’d hoped. Instead of turning onto the highway, I kept to the quiet city streets, bypassing the exit to the city altogether.

  My thigh throbbed, and braking was a bitch. So I kept it slow, slumped against the seat, and crawled my way west once more.

  Jerry…Jerry…I tried to think, tried to remember any mention of him in Alma’s notebooks, and came up empty. I pulled into a quiet service station far enough off the highway to miss most of the customers and refueled before I hobbled inside. These days, my body was fueled with three things: sugar, caffeine, and rage.

  I limped toward the refrigerator section and pulled out as many energy drinks as I could carry. The kid behind the counter never looked up from his comic, only leaned closer to the cash register, perched on an old stool and slowly flicking through the pages.