Wicked Road to Hell

by Juliana Stone

  Kaden’s face whitened and Ana’s heart broke at the sight of him trying to be so brave. She wanted to rush to his side and take him into her arms, but he was no child and she knew he needed to stand on his own.

  “And what if you . . . what if I . . .” Kaden didn’t finish his sentence but there was no need, Cale was more than willing to do it for him.

  His voice was sharp, his intention clear. “I will end you.”

  Declan was barely able to hold Ana back. Her rage and frustration erupted into a guttural scream. Cale’s parting shot as he disappeared down the hall only served to fan the flame.

  “I’ll meet you at the Lounge once the vampire has had time to cool off.”

  It took nearly the entire day for the vampire to “cool off.”

  Chapter 11

  The afternoon was overcast. It fit the general mood at the DeLacrux mansion, and it was a somber bunch that left for Ransome’s place several hours later.

  They decided to let Kaden come along. The teen desperately wanted to have a hand in controlling his destiny, and Ana didn’t have the heart to keep saying no to him. Besides, though the protection wards put in place were strong, she still wasn’t one hundred percent sold they’d hold against Samael should he decide to make an appearance.

  And he was close by. She could feel it.

  Benny waved the four of them in, Nico, Declan, Ana, and Kaden. It was early Sunday evening, and the crowd was sparse. A blues band was jamming, the sad melodic tone of the female singer perfect. She was all kinds of smoky haze and secrets. Ana found her voice soothing and paused to listen. Declan stopped but she waved him on, and he followed Nico to the upper level. She felt the weight of his stare as he gazed down at her, but Ana kept her eyes focused on the singer and eventually Declan disappeared into Ransome’s office.

  She needed a few minutes to be away from him. The past had come rushing back at her with the ferocity of a crazed bitch. Being here at the lounge did nothing to alleviate her stress. She could close her eyes and literally transport back in time. The smells and sounds were exactly the same. All that was missing was Jean-Charles.

  “Glad to see you back.”

  Asher stood less than a foot behind her. She chose to ignore the fact that the werewolf had just snuck up on her like she was a newbie operative. If she didn’t pull herself together she was going to end up on the wrong end of a stake. Again.

  He took the last step until he was abreast of her, looked down his arrogant nose, and grinned. It was the kind of smile that was in abundance these days in the Big Easy. One that was pasted to his mouth but avoided his eyes altogether. The two shared a history that was bathed in blood, and the wolf’s animosity was returned tenfold.

  “You’re full of crap,” she said, her eyes returning to the band as they slid into a new song.

  The werewolf shrugged. “I thought I’d make an attempt to be polite but if we’re not posturing, if we’re truly showing our feelings . . .” He paused and she glanced up at him. “Well then, let’s try this again, shall we?” The tips of his teeth were visible, their sharp ends exaggerated as he spoke. “I’m so glad to see you back, Ana, though I’d like it much better if you were flat on the floor with a stake shoved through that cold bitch heart of yours.”

  She smiled. “That’s much better, Asher.”

  The two stood side by side for several more minutes. She knew the werewolf wanted something. There was no other reason for him to be there but she chose to ignore the obvious and instead opened herself up to the music. The hypnotic rhythm of the bass pulled at her and she wished she could close her eyes and get lost in the melody.

  On the dance floor a couple slid against each other, their limbs entwined, their bodies touching. It was obvious they were lovers. They moved to the music, slowly swaying in a sensual display that left an ache inside Ana.

  She turned abruptly. There was no sense thinking about such things. She’d never have what that couple had—she’d never belong to anyone. Ana glanced upstairs and sighed.

  No matter how much she wanted it.

  “Interesting company you’re keeping these days,” the wolf whispered as she stepped around him.

  “Meaning?”

  “A sorcerer? A shifter? Where does Ransome fit in all of this?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t give a shit about you, but Ransome is the head of my pack, and if anything happened to him—”

  Ana laughed outright. “If Ransome bites it, you think you’re the one to step in and replace him as alpha?” The wolf’s face darkened and a growl sounded from deep in his chest. “Are you kidding?” she continued. “An alpha needs something that you don’t have.”

  “And what would that be?” Asher’s mouth twitched into a grimace.

  Ana pushed past him but stopped long enough to whisper, “Balls,” before heading toward the stairs. She smiled at the outraged curse that flew from the werewolf’s mouth. Asher LaPierre was a weak, selfish bastard who had not one shred of leadership in his entire body. The wolf was seriously delusional if he thought to challenge for alpha.

  The office door was closed and Ana pushed it open without knocking. Kaden and Nico stood near the window. The view was nothing more than a brick wall, but they sure as hell seemed interested in something.

  Declan followed the line of her gaze. “Kaden’s visualizing the charms Ransome has in place. He’s getting quite good at it. I think if given the time he’d be able to break them.”

  “Where’s Ransome and the redhead?” She asked quickly. She wanted this business done.

  Declan nodded toward another door located at the rear of the office. “He went to get her. He had her stashed at his place.”

  Ana’s eyes narrowed. “Where is the bastard Seraph?”

  “Cale hasn’t arrived yet. Apparently he had other business to attend to but will be here soon. Promise me you’ll play nice.” His answer was tight-lipped. “I know you don’t trust him but he’s an asset we need to utilize.”

  The door opened and they turned as the werewolf strode into the room. At his side was the necromancer, Francesca. She was not happy, that was obvious. She grimaced as her gaze swept the room, and her face darkened even more. Her hands dangled at her side and Ana noted the iron bands that covered her wrists. The skin beneath was raw, chafed. They were an effective preventive to using the dark arts, and with the woman in question, much needed.

  The redhead was a powerful necromancer, especially for someone so young. The ghouls she’d raised and sent after Kaden were out of the ordinary. They’d been strong, fast, and vicious. She’d been feeding from something dark and there was no way she could be trusted.

  Ransome stopped and nodded toward a leather chair in front of his desk.

  “I’d rather stand, if that’s all right with you.” The girl’s voice was husky, as if ill used.

  “Suit yourself.” Ransome shrugged and moved toward his liquor supply. “Anyone want a drink?” The wolf seemed edgy, and Ana watched him closely as he poured himself a generous amount of whiskey.

  She moved toward the woman and took a moment to study her. She was attractive, slender, with long crimson hair, creamy skin, and a figure that was almost boyish. Dark circles bruised the flesh beneath her eyes and she was still dressed in the clothes she’d worn the night before.

  “Nice tats,” Ana said. The woman had intricate markings that encircled her neck.

  Francesca remained stone-faced and kept her eyes trained ahead, focused on the trashy velvet paintings that decorated the walls of Ransome’s office.

  Declan moved closer. “Those aren’t tattoos,” he murmured. Ana watched the woman flinch, but she recovered quickly and remained silent.

  The sorcerer had everyone’s attention now. Francesca’s face was pale, her lips pressed tight together.

  “What are they?” Ransome asked as he, too, moved toward Ana and the necromancer.

  Declan glanced at Ana. Something was up.

  “Yo
u’re enslaved,” he said to the woman.

  Francesca’s bottom lip trembled and Ana was certain her eyes glistened with unshed tears. A crack in the lady’s facade.

  “What the hell is it? What do you mean?” Ana whispered.

  Francesca opened her mouth to speak but the markings along her neck began to move. As they slid along her flesh a gasp of pain escaped her and she bit her lip hard. She recovered quickly and remained still as blood started to seep from the tattoo.

  “It’s a demonic slave collar.” Declan’s face was shrouded in something akin to pity. “I’ve seen them before.”

  Another groan escaped Francesca, and Ana took a step back. The scent of her blood was wonderful, full of power and darkness.

  “Can’t you do anything?” Ransome blurted, and Ana looked at the wolf in surprise. Did they really care that she was in pain? The woman had sent a pack of ghouls after Kaden. If it was up to Ana the lady would rot in Hell.

  Declan shook his head. “No, there’s nothing I can do. Only the demon who put it there can remove it and I’m guessing that would be Samael.”

  The woman’s eyes widened and then she exhaled slowly. Several seconds later the markings stopped moving and the blood disappeared from her skin, like water evaporating.

  “Are you the demon lord’s bitch?” Nico moved toward them, his tall body humming with predatory grace. Ana sensed his animal scratching below the surface and she knew it wouldn’t take much to set the warrior off.

  Francesca remained quiet though her hands were now trembling.

  “What does he want with Kaden?” Ana asked, deciding the most direct approach was the best. If it didn’t work they could always use torture. That usually did the trick.

  Ana took two steps until she was in the woman’s face. She pointed toward the teenager, who was now watching the entire scene unfold with rabid interest. “That is who your ghouls were after the other night. He’s a child. You would hand him over to someone like Samael?”

  Francesca met her gaze full-on and yet she remained silent. The shimmer of tears still clung to the corners but she wasn’t giving anything up. Her attitude enraged Ana, and Ana’s fangs slid out.

  That got the woman’s attention.

  “I’m not afraid of you.” Francesca whispered. “You are nothing compared to what waits for me if I fail.”

  Ana’s features shifted subtly, for just a second, but it was long enough for the necromancer to catch a glimpse of her true self—the one who could drink her dry with no qualms. Ana hissed and walked away.

  “I hate to break it to you, sweets, but from where I’m standing, seems as if you’ve already failed. Big-time.” Ransome took another long draw from his tumbler and set the empty glass down on his desk. He looked at Francesca. “You think your visitor last night was from the welcome wagon? You’re a smart woman, Francesca, figure it out.”

  “Don’t call me that.” The words were uttered rapidly and the woman’s eyes slid away as she once more gazed at the ground.

  “What do you want us to call you?” Ransome moved closer and Ana stepped back. She watched the werewolf closely, and though she could tell he was still edgy, he seemed to be focused.

  “Let’s skip the whole name thing because I really don’t give a shit what we call her.” Nico looked at all of them. “Let’s keep this simple, shall we?” The warrior’s skin shifted and blurred as he snarled at Francesca. “Tell us where the fucker Samael is and we won’t kill you.”

  Francesca faced the jaguar warrior, and Ana was impressed at the balls it took for her to defy the huge warrior. “Don’t threaten me, shifter. I cannot tell you where the demon is. As for the other . . .” Her words drifted into a whisper, though Ana had no trouble understanding them. “I’m already dead.”

  Silence filled Ransome’s office.

  “You said you couldn’t tell us where Samael is,” Declan stated, “not that you wouldn’t. What did you mean by that? What does he hold over you?”

  Francesca’s bottom lip trembled once more. The woman was so young. How in the hell had she managed to insert herself into a war between the Seraph and a demon lord?

  The necromancer straightened her shoulders and gazed straight into Declan’s eyes. “I will not give him up.”

  “But you do share a connection to him. The collar belongs to Samael, correct?”

  Francesca swallowed thickly and nodded.

  “Why did it move?” Kaden’s young voice grabbed her attention and Francesca glanced toward the teenager. The sorrow and pain that filled her eyes in that moment shocked Ana.

  “It’s a reminder of what I’ve lost, of what I have to gain if I’m smart.”

  “Does it hurt a lot?” Kaden looked at Declan. “Are you sure you can’t, like, do some weird mojo stuff and get rid of it?”

  Declan shook his head. “No, the only one who can remove it is Samael. Once you’ve been enslaved by a demon, your ass is pretty much toast.”

  Ana stared at Francesca. She had a hard decision to make. The woman before her was the only link she had to Samael and even though it appeared she was more or less being forced to do his dirty work, Ana had to push that from her mind.

  She let her fangs slide out and hissed at Francesca. “You will tell us the location of Samael or—”

  “Let me try.”

  Ana looked at Kaden in surprise. The teenager’s eyes were focused on the necromancer but he glanced to her quickly. “Please, Ana I can help.”

  The room was quiet as everyone’s focus shifted from Francesca to Kaden. He ignored them all and moved to within a few inches of the redhead. Ana took a few steps back to give him room and shot a puzzled look toward Declan.

  The sorcerer’s lips were thinned and she could tell Declan didn’t like Kaden anywhere near the woman. Ana had no idea what Kaden was going to do but the teenager seemed sincere. Sure of himself.

  “If you touch him I will make you regret it,” Ana said from between clenched teeth. Her fangs had retracted but she stood with her feet spread, her arms at the ready.

  Francesca made a gurgling noise and held her iron-clad wrists aloft. “No worries there,” she muttered before glancing toward Kaden.

  “You won’t feel a thing, I promise,” he said softly, his manner grave. “Um, you said that he’ll punish you if you speak. If you tell us the thing that he doesn’t want us to know, right?”

  What the hell was he getting at? Ana frowned. She had no idea where the teenager was going with this or what he planned on doing.

  Francesca nodded but remained silent.

  Kaden shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to say a word.”

  He moved until his body was nearly touching Francesca’s and then raised his hands. Energy sizzled along Kaden’s limbs, crackling into the air as he held his fingertips near her head. He never touched her; didn’t make a sound, and the silence that engulfed them echoed so heavily in Ana’s ears that she winced.

  A chill ran along Ana’s body as she watched the teenager, and goose bumps spread along her arms. Kaden’s eyes were closed, his face a mask of concentration. He looked well beyond his sixteen years, and not for the first time, Ana wondered about the secrets he held inside.

  A breeze drifted from out of nowhere, lifting long tendrils of red hair to dance in the air. Francesca’s hands came up but Kaden flicked his wrist and she was unable to move. Ana looked at Declan in surprise and she saw the same mirrored in his face. The boy was powerful and had layers to him that he’d not shared.

  Long moments passed as Kaden stood before the woman, his young body thrumming with power. When he turned abruptly Ana exhaled, not knowing her breath had become trapped until it fell from her in a rush. The teenager’s mouth was pinched, his eyes darkened, and perspiration lined his forehead. He was breathing rapidly and with some effort slowed his breaths as he stepped away from Francesca.

  He took a few seconds and then spoke. His voice was quiet, calm. “The demon lord is in a place of darkness.
It’s cold, damp but there are flashes of light, whispers of voices.” Kaden glanced at Ana. “There’s loud music, wetness, and pain.” Kaden glanced around the room. “There’s a lot of suffering and so much fear.” He shook his head and winced. “He’s not alone. There’s someone else hidden beyond the darkness. I couldn’t see what it was, but I could feel someone or something. There are two more. They’re like asleep but not asleep if that makes sense.” Kaden shook his head as if trying to get rid of the images in his mind. “I can’t explain it any other way.”

  Kaden took a few steps. He rubbed the back of his head as if trying to gather his thoughts before he eyed Declan. “They have tattoos like mine, a boy and girl. They’re different—the tattoos—the center is not the same. One has a symbol that looks like lightning and other has scales, like the scales of justice.”

  “Shit, it sounds like he’s already got his hands on two of the marks.” Ransome slammed his empty glass down and Francesca jumped. “This is not good, boys.” He grabbed the whiskey decanter and proceeded to pour himself another glass. “Not good at all.”

  “What of the girl? Is she all right?” Francesca asked as a tear slid down her cheek. Ana had to strain to hear her words but the pain that sat upon her face was awful. This young teenager meant something to the necromancer.

  “She’s asleep, too.” He lowered his gaze. “Her hair is the same color as yours.”

  “Who is she?” Declan asked, moving closer to Ana’s side as he did so.

  “Francesca’s sister,” Kaden answered quietly. “I think,” he added quickly. “I mean she looks an awful lot like you.”

  Francesca didn’t say a word. Her face went blank and her gaze fell to the floor.

  “How the hell do you know this stuff?” Nico asked, his face as dark as his thoughts. “If you ever pull that kind of crap with me I’ll kick your ass but good.” He tossed a look at Ana. “I don’t care who the hell you are.”

  “He’s the fifth mark.” Declan answered. “His gift is sight.”