Hell Can Wait (Urban Fantasy) (Caith Morningstar Book 4)

by Celia Kyle

  “Cool!” Bryony jumped in place then ran for the door, Esmeralda hurrying after him. He paused when he reached the door, small hand holding the knob, and looked at Momma R. “Can I pick their names?”

  Momma R laughed. “Sure you can, dearheart.”

  “Yay!” Another laugh and jump and then he was out the door, leaving it wide behind him. Esmeralda followed, tugging it closed. Just before it snapped shut, I heard yet another shout from my kid. “That one’s Gator McGatorface!”

  At least he wasn’t delving into his wide array of curses for their names. No one appreciated a gator named DickFuck. According to Uncle Luc, it wasn’t dignified.

  Momma R handed the werewolves a couple of beers and let them commandeer her TV. The moment they had a football game on the screen, they relaxed and the mood immediately lightened. That left Sam and me at the kitchen table, talking with Momma R and filling her in on everything we’d learned. Just before we all sat for dinner, Jezze returned home from her shift at Hell’s Chapel.

  Jezze paused in the kitchen doorway, frown on her lips. “You’re here.”

  I took a swig of my beer. “Yeah, well, Sorsha didn’t see the point in keeping me around any longer.”

  “Oh,” my friend whispered. Then the truth of what I meant dawned on her and her expression fell as her face paled. “Ohhh.”

  Jezze sat and took a beer, drinking half the bottle in one long swig. She placed her drink on the table, staring at the neck of the bottle and not saying another word. One by one her mood spread around the room, latching on to everyone else, and even Momma R deflated a little.

  Since we were all down anyway, I figured now was as good a time as any to address why I’d dragged everyone to Momma R’s. “I want to talk to you guys about Bry.”

  “Of course, we’ll take care of him.” Momma R reached across the table and grabbed my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You know that.”

  “I know.” I nodded. I did know. Jezze had dragged my ass into their crazy world over three hundred years ago and the woman had loved me like her own daughter. My lineage had never mattered to the witch. Only my heart was important. “I never doubted that, but it’s not enough.”

  “Not enough?” Jezze furrowed her brow, a mixture of offense and confusion in her features. “Raising your son isn’t enough?”

  I swallowed hard and gave her a level stare. “Raising him as Aunt Jezze isn’t enough. He needs a real family. He deserves a real family.” One that I’d hoped to give him when I’d brought him home and claimed him in front of everyone. I’d taken that little brownie child and vowed to love and protect him with everything that I was. “If I die,” —when— “I want you to adopt him.”

  “Oh,” she whispered and her expression dropped. She turned her attention to her beer. “Of course, Caith. You know how much I love him.”

  “Good.” By On High, why was this so hard? “I’d like to get it done legally so human authorities don’t give you any trouble.” I doubted Mayor Boyd would let anything happen to my son considering his family ties, but I needed assurance. It was tricky when trying to balance the human and tween world.

  “And Jezze,” the more I spoke, the harder it was to breath. “I’m giving you the bar.”

  Tears filled Jezze’s eyes, but she remained silent. “You’ve been with me since we opened. You’ll have Bergamot and Pepper though I’m sure you’ll want to hire someone else. What…” I cleared my throat and pretended my eyes weren’t burning with unshed tears. Caith Morningstar didn’t cry, dammit. “Whatever you need to do. Just keep the place open, okay?”

  Jezze nodded, those tears finally falling freely and she looked away, unable to meet my eyes.

  We went through more details until dinner was ready and Bryony came inside to eat. Momma R invited the wolves to the table, but they opted to eat in the living room so they could continue watching the game.

  Men.

  Dinner conversation moved from grim topics onto more normal, domestic things. Bry raved about the baby gators, and Momma R promised he could visit and feed them whenever he wanted.

  Okay, baby gator pets were our normal, anyway.

  Jezze perked up once the conversation lightened and she shared stories about annoying asshole customers at the bar over the last few days. It felt like another regular night, as if we were simply a family. One that didn’t have my illness hanging above them like a bloodthirsty beast. Every now and then I caught a worried look in someone’s eye, but their concerns went unsaid.

  As the night wore on, Bryony grew tired and fidgety, his exhaustion kicking in, and Esmeralda took him upstairs to sleep in Momma R’s guest room.

  Before he left, he gave me a big hug, thin arms wrapped around my neck. I breathed deeply, drawing in his scents, and promised myself that even after I died, I’d always remember the way he smelled. I’d always remember his smile, his laugh, his…

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Mom.”

  I fought off my tears. I couldn’t bear to tell him that I was getting worse. “I’m glad I could come home.”

  “Me too.” He kissed my cheek and I did the same to him before I sent him off with Esmeralda to get ready for bed.

  Once he was gone, I looked at the others. The table had grown quiet. Everyone seemed to realize that now that Bryony was gone, it was time to lay the cards on the table.

  “So,” I huffed. It was up to me to get the ball rolling. “We need to talk about how I die.”

  No one said a word. They exchanged looks, confusion and heartache coating everyone’s faces.

  Sam was the first to respond. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I’m dying.” I shrugged and pretended I wasn’t hurting, that my heart wasn’t breaking with every word I said. “That’s the fact. But I get to choose how I go.”

  “Caith,” Jezze shook her head. “No…”

  “No? No what? No I don’t get to die? Cause that’s happening one way or the other.” I was being honest with myself. They needed to as well.

  “You don’t know for sure,” Jezze said. “We might still find—“

  “We’re past the point of a cure.” I held up my hand to quiet her. “And we know now that there’s more at stake than my death. Once this thing finishes devouring my body and soul, I won’t die. I won’t be me anymore. I become a ghoul puppet for Keller to control. He’ll pull my strings and force me to find the sigil.”

  “So we stop him before he can do that.” So like a man to state the obvious. At least Sam was pretty.

  “How?” I stared him down, daring him to argue. “We don’t know where he is and we have no idea what his next move will be. After our run-in with him earlier today, he’s going to be even more careful. He doesn’t need to come into the city and show himself. He’ll keep sending ghouls to do his dirty work.”

  The pussy.

  “Then we wait,” Sam said, “until he—“

  “Until he absorbs my soul when I die,” I drawled. “No way. That’s not how I’m going down.”

  “You’re talking about killing yourself.” Momma R’s voice was soft and sad.

  The whole table fell quiet.

  I shrugged. “Die as a puppet for Keller or on my own terms. I’m nobody’s puppet.”

  A long silence enveloped them while everyone considered what I’d said. The looks on their faces told me they all wanted to argue, but no one would be able to talk me out of something when I’d made up my mind.

  “Caith,” Sam reached over and touched my hand. “Even assuming we let you do this—“

  “Let me?” I arched a brow.

  He sighed. “Even assuming you decide to do this, how do you know it will sever Keller’s ties? The magic has spread. It might be too late.”

  I dug into my bag and withdrew the book I’d gotten from Ellie. “It wouldn’t be a normal death.” I patted the worn leather. “I’d use spirit magic. A ritual suicide. It would require a prepared dagger and a few other ingredients. The spell would sever
any connections to my soul. Not just Keller’s, either. It would sever the ties I have to Uncle Luc’s domain, as well. In the past, the spell was used to free souls from eternal damnation.”

  “You’d become a ghost.” Jezze crossed her arms and shot me a fierce glower.

  “A free spirit, able to wander without being pulled to On High or dragged to Hell.” I shrugged. “At least until the gatekeepers find me.”

  Sam’s expression darkened. He knew exactly what I meant. Angels were tasked with the duty of guiding souls. Most of the time, a soul simply got lost on the way and needed help. Other times, a spirit lingered for personal reasons—grief, anger, hate. All the fun stuff that led to Hell. Then there were those that died from murder or deep betrayal who found themselves stuck in the tween. They wandered until they found justice.

  It was possible On High would send Sam to collect and guide me, though I supposed it was possible they’d send another gel. It wasn’t like Sam was super dependable when I entered an equation.

  “This is foolish,” Sam growled, almost like a wolf and I felt my own stirring in the back of my mind.

  “Duly noted, but it’s also the only option.” I glanced around the table. “Unless someone has a better idea?” No one would meet my gaze. “There we go, then.”

  “You’re really going to do this?” Tears streamed down Jezze’s cheeks unchecked. “Just up and kill yourself?”

  She said it like it was so easy. Like it was a simple decision. As if I woke up and decided killing myself seemed like a super fun idea.

  “Look, Jezze, I know the situation sucks. Trust me, I do. Even setting aside what’s at stake here, death isn’t the real end for me. If Keller didn’t have his hooks in me, my soul would go to Hell and I’d hang with Uncle Luc and my mother for a few millennia until I could get to the mortal realm under my own power. Earlier if someone opens a gateway and summons me like any other demon.”

  “You’re not any other demon.” Sam’s voice was soft.”

  “No,” I grinned. “I’m a badass bitch of a dem who has a throne reserved for me at Lucifer’s side in Hell. That’s not a bad deal as far as afterlives go.”

  I put on a brave front, tried to present a calm and bravado I didn’t feel. I didn’t want to die—trade this life, my friends and son, to become a real princess of Hell.

  I’d change once I was down there. The conscience that helped guide me in the tween wouldn’t hound me any longer. The most important parts of being alive—friends, love, work, play, hope—wouldn’t exist in Hell. There would be no eating, sleeping, crying or sex to keep me grounded in the now.

  Existence was spiritual and shaped by belief. Every imagining could become reality, strength and power only limited by thoughts. Most never learned how. If a soul entered Hell, believing they should be punished and tortured for eternity… that’s what they got.

  Someone like me? Centuries had given me more control over my fate in the afterlife.

  That didn’t mean I was ready. It would take me thousands of years to control my spirit-self and gain power anywhere near Uncle Luc’s. But Hell was my destiny—determined by my mother. I simply hadn’t expected to face my destiny for a few more millennia.

  “What do you need from us?” Momma R sat with her hands folded in her lap and a stoic expression on her face. She wasn’t any happier about this than Jezze or Sam, but she would at least look at things from a practical perspective.

  “I have most of what I need.” I lowered my eyes. I couldn’t meet her calm gaze. “I need time to prepare the ritual. I wanted to make sure you all would… Well, not understand or accept it, but at least agree not to interfere.”

  “I suppose we have no choice.” Sam’s voice was a bare whisper.

  “When are you going to do it?” Jezze croaked.

  I stared out the window. Part of me wanted to delay. Just one more day with my friends and family. One more day to experience love before I cast this body aside.

  But I knew I might not have another day in me. I could go to sleep tonight and never wake up. Or worse, wake up as an undead monster under Keller’s control.

  “Tonight.”

  “Are you going to say goodbye to Bry?” Jezze’s question crushed my heart.

  I shook my head. “I can’t. I can’t tell him I’m about to kill myself.”

  Momma R reached over and squeezed my hand. “We’ll tell him you went peacefully in your sleep.”

  I nodded and wiped tears from my eyes. I didn’t want to imagine the conversation Momma R would have to have with Bry, explaining to him that I was really gone.

  “I need to be alone now.” I couldn’t take any more of those looks. I couldn’t stay strong for another moment.

  “Caith.” The way Sam said my name… Husky and dark. My wolf stretched for my mate.

  “No, Sam.” I put a hand on his chest. “Not yet. We can say our goodbyes when the ritual is ready. Let me have this time to prepare myself.”

  He touched my hand, holding it to his chest. His heart beat beneath my palm and I wondered what I’d feel when mine stopped.

  I left the table, book in hand and bag of supplies slung over my shoulder. I headed outside so I could begin the ritual in fresh air and under the moon’s bright light.

  I didn’t look back at the house. I didn’t want to see the look on my friends’ faces.

  I couldn’t bear to see the pain in Sam’s eyes.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I lowered myself to the dew-damp grass, legs folded beneath me while I laid the book across my lap. I sat there for a while, leaving the book closed and untouched. I tipped my head back and looked up at the stars, wondering if this was the last time I’d see them. How different would they look after I died?

  I wasn’t normally sentimental, but I also wasn’t normally preparing to kill myself either.

  I remembered when the sky was different. When I was younger and I could see every star in the sky. When I’d wanted to count them all and one of my fathers told me it was impossible.

  I’d told him nothing was impossible, merely improbable.

  That stubborn refusal to accept what I’d been told earned me the nickname “Baby Leth” for a while. After my first father, Letholdus. Who was, apparently the most stubborn person ever born and blessed by On High.

  Back then, there was no electricity. No city lights drowning out the stars. The sky had seemed so much fuller then.

  I frowned and looked away. Ugh. Sentimental bullshit wasn’t my thing.

  I opened the book and turned to the section that described the ritual. It was a fairly simple process, all told. Something so dark, yet so easy.

  I withdrew my black athame—the dagger’s edge freshly sharpened—and prepared the blade with a mixture of herbs. They were similar to those used on a vision quest, a freeing of mind and soul and opening to visions of the future. Normally, the spirit would remain tethered to its body so that there was a way to get back to the corporeal form when the quest was over.

  This would sever that tether. I’d have no way to return.

  Since it also severed Keller’s hold on me, I figured it was a fair trade.

  I read the ritual words, drawing on my own power and casting the spell to bind the spirit magic to the athame. I didn’t let myself hesitate, didn’t give myself any more time to wonder and worry.

  I held it over my heart, the sharpened tip pricking the thin fabric of my shirt. I’d lied to Sam. I’d lied to my family. I didn’t want to say my goodbyes and…

  I was fucking scared. Scared that if I took the time to say goodbye I’d lose my nerve.

  This way, they wouldn’t get the chance to try and talk me out of it. Sam would try to stop me. It was better to get it done quickly before he got the chance.

  I pierced my shirt and felt the pressure of the blade against my skin. I took a deep breath, tightened my muscles and prepared myself for what was to come.

  I wanted it to be quick.

  “You deserve better, Caith.
”

  The unexpected voice had me freezing in place. Keller.

  He walked across the yard, his stride casual and relaxed. “You deserve strength, power. I can give you that. When you’re by my side as my queen, we’ll grow beyond the limitations of mortals. Beyond the powers of angels and demons. We’ll be gods.”

  “Go to Hell, Keller.” I didn’t move the dagger from my chest. I might be able to hurl it at him—kill him—but in my weakened state I didn’t trust my aim.

  If he came any closer, though… I could finish him before he could stop me.

  “You loved me once, Caith.” My ex was fucking crazy. “You ran because you were afraid of that love, but my feelings remained.”

  I didn’t bother arguing with him. In a way, he was right. I’d left him because I was afraid. I hadn’t been ready for a serious relationship.

  But there was more to it than that.

  It had taken me a long time to accept the real reason I’d left Keller. I wasn’t afraid of loving him. I was afraid that I’d convince myself to love him even though I didn’t.

  It was easy to mistake passion and lust for love. We’d had strong passion, but not love. It had never been the deep, unyielding, spiritual bond that I had with Sam.

  I didn’t know what that meant then, but I understood it now. Not that I could explain it to Keller. If he’d held this flame for centuries, no words I spoke would convince him otherwise.

  Keller held out a hand. “Give me the dagger, Caith.”

  “Fuck you.” I pressed the dagger into my chest, the tip inching toward my heart.

  Until my hand froze.

  Keller clenched his fist and pulled and I could feel his tug from across the space between us. He was using the connection to my wound, trying to control my body. I fought against him, battled to finish the deed, but his grip was too strong. I wasn’t in control any longer. My hand trembled and retreated, moving the dagger from my skin. Sweat peppered my body, beads of liquid forming along my brow. I fought Keller with all my strength, but I had so little left… The weaker I grew, the stronger he became.