Wicked Road to Hell

by Juliana Stone

  Ana’s eyes met Declan’s and the fury that laced hers a deeper shade of blue was impressive. She was pissed.

  A tall, pale vampire held her.

  The bastard gave him a once-over and sneered as he spat at Ana, “I knew it was only a matter of time until you followed the path of your brother.”

  Declan would have moved forward but the sharp knife the vampire held at Ana’s throat stopped him cold. Small rivulets of blood rolled down her skin. She’d already been cut.

  The vampire laughed, his whole body shaking from the joy he took in Ana’s pain. “No matter,” he said to her, “we won’t make the same mistake we did with Jean-Charles. Once we destroy this”—the vampire nodded toward Declan—“abomination, we will cut your head from your body and dump your remains in the Mississippi.”

  He pressed the knife in and she hissed, her eyes never leaving Declan’s. Her hands clutched a small package of emerald silk.

  “Take your hands off her.” Declan spoke slowly, enunciating his words carefully as he took a step forward.

  “Do not speak to me.” The vampire dismissed Declan as if he posed no more of a threat than a pesky fly, or human.

  Totally wrong fucking thing to do.

  Declan’s arm flew out and with it, an incredible surge of energy. It engulfed the four vampires who watched at his left, their countenances almost bored. He snarled as surprise flickered across their stony features.

  Two of them were knocked back so hard into the wall that the entire room shook from the force of it. The others shrieked—enraged—and scrambled for footing as they turned toward him, fangs at the ready.

  Bring it on, assholes.

  Ransome rolled over and took the nearest one down, his body a blur as he shifted into his animal form. Declan saw Ana struggle and swore as the vampire who held her clocked her upside the head. She staggered from the force of it, falling to the ground.

  The remaining vampire attacked Declan and he tore his gaze from Ana as he focused on the bastard. The vampire was strong as hell, most likely an ancient, but Declan lunged forward, his fangs sinking deep as he tore at its throat.

  The vampire roared in pain and head butted him in an effort to break his hold. The dagger went flying, but no matter. The power inside him tripled, a mix of magick, vamp juice, and sheer determination. He grabbed hold of the vamp’s neck and twisted as hard as he could while they rolled upon the floor. With a mighty heave, Declan snapped his neck and threw the body to the side.

  He was up on his feet in an instant, just in time for his world to stop cold. Blue eyes stared into his, large round pools of regret. Everything faded into the background, save his woman.

  The vampire was locked onto her jugular and it was obvious his intent was to kill. Each draw he took from Ana reverberated deep in Declan’s soul.

  “No!”

  The savage cry erupted, torn from his chest. Ana struggled against the vampire who held her and managed to toss her emerald prize in the air. “Take this and run!” she shouted hoarsely as she tried to twist away from her tormentor.

  He watched the bag as it floated in a perfect arc. It moved slowly. Time had stopped. Confusion reigned.

  Then a hand slid through, parting reality in a shower of light.

  “Oh my, it’s been a while since I’ve played catch.” A short, round, balding man appeared from nowhere and smiled widely at everyone. Bill. He tossed the silken bag into the air once more and moved to the side, speaking behind him. “Yes, almost forgot.”

  A tall, blond man appeared, sliding into view in the same way Bill had just done. His strange golden/black eyes were flat as he glared at the vampire who held Ana.

  It was Azaiel, the fallen. “I suggest you remove your hands from the lady, Alistair.”

  The vampire looked shocked. He dropped Ana at his feet and moved away, his fangs retracting as he did so.

  Declan was at Ana’s side instantly and he scooped her slight form into his arms, cradling her closely.

  “Why?” he asked, shaking his head, not understanding.

  Her eyes fluttered opened and she smiled, shakily, but in that second he knew she was going to be fine. “Your safety,” she managed. “Seth.”

  He ignored everyone, sliced into his wrist, and held it over her mouth. As he gazed down at her, felt her take life-giving blood from him, Declan knew his path had been forever altered.

  That she would be willing to sacrifice herself so that he would live was humbling. The woman he held completed him, made him whole. He would never give her up.

  “This is not your concern.” Alistair had managed to regain his composure and his dark eyes were centered on Bill and Azaiel.

  Bill laughed and shook his head. “Oh, but it is.” He nodded toward Declan and Ana. “They are Seraph and as such are part of my family. They are under my protection.” Bill’s hand was upon Alistair’s throat before the vampire had time to react. “The Seraphim.”

  He bent forward, his face inches from Alistair. Light emanated from his body and the horror that was reflected upon the vampire was sobering.

  He’d just had a sneak peek at Bill’s true nature.

  Bill dropped Alistair and smiled down at the now-cowering vampire. “The Seraphim don’t like to get involved in day-to-day squabbles amongst the otherworld. However, I’ve always been more hands-on.” He shrugged. “I bend the rules, and sometimes I break them. So, vampire, be forewarned, anyone who is under my protection is off-limits. If you touch them I will destroy you.”

  “Alistair, we will not be dictated to.”

  Ransome growled at the last vampire standing other than Alistair. The large wolf had him cornered. Bill didn’t bother to look their way; he waved his hand and the vampire slid to the floor, forever silenced.

  Bill patted Alistair as if he were a dog. “Now then, I’ve business to attend to, run along.” The small Seraphim stood back and Alistair’s form shimmered and disappeared.

  He turned to Declan and Ana, his meaty hand clutched tight around the emerald bag. “I should like the pleasure of returning this to Seth.” His eyes widened. “If you don’t mind, Ana.”

  Though Declan would have preferred to hold her close and not let go, she slid from his arms and enveloped elf man in a hug. She whispered something into his ear and Bill’s face reddened considerably as she let go.

  Bill stared at the two of them for a long moment and sighed. “A dark wind is coming, my friends.” His eyes glittered, “Go with Azaiel to The Pines. There is much to discuss.”

  And then he was gone.

  Ransome shifted back to human form and gathered the tattered remains of his clothes. “Damn, I need a drink,” he murmured to no one in particular as he pulled his jeans up. “You guys coming to the Lounge for one last hurrah?”

  Declan slipped his arm around Ana and shook his head. “Next time, LaPierre.” He shook the wolf’s hand. “Thanks for everything. I’ll be in touch and if you ever need a hand . . .”

  “No worries there, my friend. The company you keep is kick-ass. I won’t hesitate to call.”

  Nico appeared in the door and nodded. “Samael is waiting.”

  Ana looked at Declan and slipped her hand into his. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Declan bent, his lips grazing hers as he whispered, “I’m thinking a long, hot bath and hours of undisturbed sleep.”

  Ana smiled against his mouth. “After I’m done with you, a week’s worth of sleep will not be enough.”

  Declan groaned. “Promise?”

  They were outside now and Declan eyed the sleek limo parked in front of the house. On the street great plumes of smoke still poured from the vehicles Samael had set on fire. Ana tugged on Declan’s sleeve. “Cross my heart.”

  They slid inside, followed by Nico and Azaiel. Ana settled against him. He held her close and glanced at Samael. The demon’s hands were clenched tightly, the set of his mouth tense.

  Declan turned away and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think a
bout the bad shit. Not yet. Not when the feel of the woman he loved made everything all right.

  He’d waited forever, it seemed. He would savor and worship her—never let her go.

  “We made it,” she whispered, moving against him and relaxing in his arms.

  He kissed the top of her head. He wouldn’t think of the bad stuff.

  There would be time for that later.

  “We sure as hell did.”

  Epilogue

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Bill bustled into the room, full of energy and smiling like a lunatic. It was overdone, of course, an attempt to mask the pain and shock he felt. The news he held close to his heart was grave indeed.

  In his hands were two large bags of candy, which he tossed onto the table before grabbing a glass of water. He smiled once more and took a good long, drink. He needed a moment.

  The men and women seated were silent, respectful. He held the glass, his stubby fingers absently rubbing the cool moisture that collected along the side. Some of them were meeting for the first time and he saw the nervous stares, the carefully controlled posturing. He’d never gathered them like this, together in confined space.

  Natural adversaries, coupled with fierce natures, made for strange bedfellows indeed.

  He glanced at Cale and Samael. They were two prime examples, and yet they’d learned to get along.

  They were smart. They knew they couldn’t survive without the other. Every soul present had taken a sacred vow to protect the status quo, to make sure neither the upper nor lower realm achieved too much power.

  They were in fact the scales of justice by which the human realm was able to exist. Without these creatures, culled from every corner of the otherworld here and beyond, there was no hope. Chaos would rain down upon the heads of man and all would be lost.

  His eyebrows furled. He would hold them to it.

  He turned quickly and asked for another glass of water. The pitcher was handed to him, and once his glass was filled he looked at the group. Where to start?

  His eyes rested upon Declan and Ana. They were happy, and he supposed after all they’d been through, they should be. Declan would continue working on behalf of the Seraphim, but was now part of this secret sect, the League of Guardians. He’d also claimed the jaguar warrior Nico. There had been no other choice—they knew too much.

  His gaze moved to Ana. It had always been his plan to include the vampire in the fold.

  Funny how things worked out.

  Ana looked worried. He’d grown close to the vampire over the last while. She knew his moods.

  “The children you recovered have been moved to a safe haven. We can watch over them, guide them, and track down the others before they are found.” He smiled though there was no joy inside him.

  “What about the list?” Declan arched a brow. “We never recovered the other names.”

  Bill sighed. “I’ve no knowledge of a list and as far as I know, the remaining four marks have not been recovered.”

  “What of the necromancer, Francesca?” Samael flashed a smile and removed his aviators.

  Bill’s eyes narrowed. “She’s with her sister and the others. I’m not happy she wears a slave collar.”

  Samael shrugged. “It was the only way to get her to cooperate . . . initially.”

  “You will remove it.”

  Samael shook his head. “No, brother, I will not.”

  Bill eyed the demon lord closely. There were times when it was prudent to pick his battles. This was one of them. “If the collar remains, you will refrain from engaging it, understood?”

  Samael remained silent, but nodded his agreement.

  Bill cleared his throat, and for a second the enormity of the news he held was overwhelming. He took a few extra seconds before he addressed his team. He glanced at the empty chairs. Some were on assignment and hadn’t been able to make it. It was the others that troubled him. The ones he couldn’t locate.

  And the one who was never coming back.

  “Cara is no longer among us.” He watched them closely. “She’s been . . . eliminated.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Cale frowned.

  “She was murdered,” Bill said softly.

  Shocked silence followed his announcement. Cara had been an important member of his team. She was an elderly woman of magick, a white witch, and had been three days shy of her seventieth birthday when she’d been found, her body beaten, tortured, and branded.

  Cale’s hardened features turned to him, his voice barely a whisper. “How? Why?”

  Bill turned to his oldest, most trusted confidant. “The details are horrific.”

  “Was it otherworld?” Samael’s lips were tight, his aviators back in place.

  Bill grabbed a handful of Gummi bears and chewed them thoroughly before swallowing. “Most definitely.” He shook his head and made no effort to hide the sadness, the utter despair he felt. “I fear we’ve been discovered. After working for millennia to keep the balance in our worlds, we may have a betrayer in our midst.”

  Silence greeted his words. Bill let his gaze wander the room. So many noble, fierce warriors and each of them, he’d trust with his life.

  “Do we know this for certain?” Azaiel spoke from the shadows.

  Bill shrugged. “No.” The small man leaned on the table and let a glimpse of his power—his rage—shine through. “But we will find out. If there is a betrayer among us”—he arched a brow—“here in this room, or posted in any realm we inhabit, they will be hunted and held responsible.”

  “We need to find out what happened to Cara,” Cale said quietly.

  Bill nodded. “Azaiel will leave at once.”

  “You would trust him with such a delicate mission?” Cale stood so quickly, his chair skittered across the wooden floor.

  All eyes turned toward the tall figure in the corner. Azaiel sat alone, his long, denim-clad legs crossed in front of him as if relaxed, but the tight set of his mouth told the truth. The fallen was on edge.

  Bill cocked an eyebrow. “I would trust him with my life.”

  Cale’s face was red, angry. He snarled and strode for the door. Samael sat back, crossed his arms, and shrugged. “I don’t usually agree with Cale, but in this instance, I gotta say, I think you’re making a mistake.”

  “I thank you for your concern; however, I have the greatest of faith that Azaiel will perform admirably.”

  Bill grabbed another handful of candy. “He will leave as soon as transportation is made available.”

  “I don’t think Cale is gonna want to give up one of his prized Harleys.”

  Bill ignored Samael and nodded to Azaiel. “It’s time, my friend.”

  Azaiel stood. Six feet, six inches of intensity. “Where am I headed?”

  “Salem, Massachusetts. A bed-and-breakfast called the Black Cauldron.”

  Azaiel turned without another word, though he paused at the door. “I’ll see what I can find out and report back within the week.”

  Bill watched the fallen leave and knew the coming days were going to be dark. He popped one last Gummi bear into his mouth and grabbed a third glass of water.

  He had faith in Azaiel. He just hoped the fallen angel had a healthy dose of his own.

  Or they were in big trouble.

  Acknowledgments

  Once more I’m so very humbled by all the talented people who work behind the scenes to get my books out there. Esi Sogah, my lovely editor, Pam Jaffee and Jessie Edwards, the publicity ladies. Tom, who outdid himself with this cover. Hell never looked so good, eh? Adrienne Di Pietro, I just adore you. The girls at HarperCollins Canada, it was so lovely to meet!

  I also need to give a shout-out to my readers for Wicked: Tracy Stefurak—thanks for all your input and enthusiasm. Amanda Vyne—again, best roomie ever, and your sharp eye is much appreciated.

  Again, I’m so thrilled to have met such an amazing group of paranormal authors at HarperCollins. The Supernatural Underg
round ladies rock and everyone should check out the blog!

  Lastly, a huge THANK YOU to the readers who’ve embraced my jaguars. Thank you so much for your e-mails, they mean a lot!

  Read on for a sneak peek at

  KING OF THE DAMNED,

  the next book in the League of Guardians series,

  coming December 2012

  from Juliana Stone and Avon Books.

  There’s nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home.

  SIXX: A.M.

  Darkness had fallen hours earlier, leaving only the moon’s glow to illuminate the house on the hill. Rowan cut the engine of her rental, a frown furling her features as she stared at the large, rambling home.

  The wind whistled and moaned, whipping dead leaves from the ground into a chaotic dance across her windshield. In the distance a once-vibrant red sunset settled along the edge of darkness that encroached from below. The day was dying and soon nightfall would be complete.

  She glanced at the parking area next to the gift shop and was surprised to see it empty. The Black Cauldron was one of the most popular bed-and-breakfast stops in Salem and there were always guests in residence. At least there used to be.

  An uneasy fist turned in her gut as she narrowed her eyes and gazed toward the house. The porch light was out and the evening’s early shadows nearly hid the newspapers piled up next to the door. Leaves and debris clung to the corners of the steps leading up to the porch. It looked as if it hadn’t been swept for days.

  She pursed her lips and frowned. It was too dark, too silent. Something was wrong.

  Very wrong.

  Rowan pushed her car door open and grabbed her overnight bag as she slid from the car. Cool wind caressed bare legs and a shudder wracked her body as she paused beside the vehicle. She was still dressed for Southern California, not fall in Massachusetts. The ice blue silk blouse wasn’t going to cut it.