Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy)

by Celia Kyle

  By the time I got her back to Momma R’s, the fairy was just coming around. I dragged Meadow through the door and tossed her onto the couch beside Pinky.

  Momma R jumped into witchy mode and pressed a hand to Pinky’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” he grunted and took a few deep breaths, stretching his arms up. “My head hasn’t been this clear in days.”

  Both Jezze and Momma R looked him over, just to be sure. We got Meadow settled and woke her enough to pour the stuff down her throat too. She was back out like a light.

  Then we waited, wanting to make sure our success rate was two for two.

  “How much of this can you make? There are a lot of tweeners who need it.”

  “The recipe isn’t hard.” Jezze shrugged. “It was more a matter of finding the right recipe. I can call the local healers and let them know. If they all start brewing it, they should be able to distribute it pretty effectively.”

  Which was what I liked to hear.

  “Good.” I ran a hand through my hair, relieved we had a little good news, finally. “Fuck, but I still gotta find the source and cut this shit off.”

  “Just below the chin.” Jezebeth winked.

  I rolled my eyes and just enjoyed a breather, waiting for Meadow to wake up. Thankfully, it didn’t take too long. The woman wiggled and stretched, releasing a low baaah as she woke. She looked around in confusion, rubbing one of her brown ears. Her eyes looked clearer and thankfully I didn’t see a trace of demon red in them.

  “Where am I?” Her voice had that little pout that annoyed the hell out of me and she poked out her lower lip.

  “Someplace safe.” I sat on the coffee table, trying not to look like I was ready to shake answers out of her. “Do you remember what happened?”

  She blinked those wide brown eyes at me and shook her head.

  “Whatever you’ve been taking,” I held up one of the empty baggies, “did a real number on you. You’ve been out of your head and haven’t exactly been as discreet as Mayor Boyd would like. You stalked him at home?”

  A look of horror spread over her features when I reminded her about the way she’d been acting. “Oh, no.” She covered her mouth with her hands. “My baby. Is he mad at me?”

  I looked Meadow over. Her human bits were plump and voluptuous and while I wasn’t a goat connoisseur, she seemed to have a nice figure there, too. I reached out and patted her knee. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

  She jumped up and pressed her hands to her chest. “I should go talk to him and apologize.” She shook her head, copper curls bouncing. “It wasn’t really me acting like that.”

  I stepped in front of her, stopping her from her race to City Hall. “Maybe you should give him a day or two. He’s gotta help the city through this crisis. Election year, you know?”

  “Oh.” Her ears drooped and lower lip poked out. “I guess you’re right.”

  “And before you go, I have questions. Where’d you get that crap?”

  She shrugged and looked away, no longer meeting my gaze. “A dealer.”

  “Uh-huh. Which dealer? This isn’t your average street drug. It’s demon brewed with dark magic. Nasty stuff and it’s all over town. I need to know the source.”

  “I don’t really remember.” Her quivering lower lip was pissing me off. “I… it was just a guy. I’ve bought stuff from him before. I get stuff from different guys. I don’t know their names.” A shrug. “I pay them, and get what I need.”

  Considering the way she looked and how she lived, my guess was she wasn’t paying them in cash. I doubted the mayor was the only one she got onto her backward knees for.

  “You have to remember. Give me something.”

  I could see her struggling to remember, but it was clear her mind was still fogged. I managed to get a list of her normal hangouts and a few small-time dealers, but they sounded like street peddlers. They weren’t the guys I was looking for, but I could rough ‘em up a little. It was a long shot, but I’d take what I could get.

  “All right, Meadow.” I’d gotten what I could and called a cab for her, the vehicle now waiting outside. “Lay low for a while. Stay off the hard stuff. You’re lucky this shit didn’t kill you.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” she nibbled her lower lip and I wasn’t going to feel bad for her or fall for her cutesy little looks. “I guess… I guess I’ll just head home then.”

  I thought back to the shitty little apartment I’d found her in, drug baggies all over the floor.

  Apparently I was going to fall for her cutesy looks.

  I grumbled and pounded to the kitchen, grabbing a piece of paper and jotting down an address. I shoved it at her. “Okay, you’re obviously in a bad spot. Get some help or you’re gonna end up back where you started.”

  I was sending her to a halfway house that catered to tweens and I also made a mental note to tell the mayor he needed to take better care of his fucktoy. The fat fuck could afford it. Being the mayor didn’t pay well, but I knew he was on the take from humans and tweens alike.

  Those fathomless eyes were wide, her little mouth hanging open. “Oh, thank you!”

  Then I had an armful of faun, the woman bouncing in place, and I fought to extricate myself.

  I shoved her in the cab’s backseat, brushing off her clingy hands, and sighed when the cab went around the bend and out of sight.

  Job done, I focused on the next item on my list—the most important item. I climbed the porch stairs and found Jezze waiting for me in the entryway. Now I had a decision to make.

  “That’s two tweens it worked on.” I took a deep breath and hoped I was making the right choice. “That’s good enough for me.”

  It’d have to be. I wasn’t sure how much longer Sorsha’s spells and charms could hold.

  “I have a batch brewing for Bry already.”

  Okay then.

  We headed to the kitchen and Jezebeth took the boiling pot off the stove. A few whispered words of power and a dash of human ingredients and then we just had to wait for it to cool. I stared at the cooling brown liquid. It held the key to my future.

  I waited until the mixture was room temperature and then poured it into one of Bry’s bottles. I carefully made my way up the stairs, determined to be optimistic for once. I needed my baby boy to be okay, and this was looking like the best option available.

  13

  Bryony glared at me while I fought to get the bottle in his mouth. Those tiny, young eyes filled with pain, frustration, and anger, were centered right on me.

  Tempmomma, holder of the bottle filled with stinky tea.

  “I know, I know,” I hushed him, trying to get the nipple in his mouth. For such a tiny thing, he was very adept at escaping me. “Drink this for me, my little vine, and you’ll feel all better.” I jostled him, cradling him with one arm, my other hand still aiming the bottle at his mouth. “Who’s my little clinging vine? Who is it?” I gave him a wide goofy smile and rubbed my nose on his head.

  Yes, even the Princess of Hell could be silly for her kid.

  That got me a tiny giggle, enough that his lips parted and I was able to get the bottle in. The stuff may have smelled nasty, but Jezze flavored it just for my little man. I kept coaxing him, encouraging him to drink more and more until Jezebeth said it was time to stop.

  But I didn’t want to. Not when I held salvation in one hand and my future in another. I wanted him to drink it all. I wanted him to get better. I wanted… to not be alone for the rest of my unending life.

  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but hold him and whisper wishes. I would do anything, give anything, for him. My heart beat for him.

  Tears gathered in my eyes and I didn’t bother fighting them back. It’d be pointless. My emotions had been bouncing all over the place and I was done trying to pretend I was fine.

  Because I wasn’t. My kid was in my arms, sick—dying—and instead of being at his side twenty-four seven, I had to hunt the ass
hole who’d hurt him.

  Bryony took one last suckle, his soft lips releasing the nipple with a tiny sigh, and those eyes I loved more than anything sleepily closed. Good. It was working. Or at least it’d started to.

  I padded over to his crib and carefully laid him on the soft surface. The first time I’d ever put him down to sleep, I’d sat up next to his crib all night, watching him breathe. That was the first time I’d ever experienced love. Oh, I loved Sam. There was no doubt about our mating bond.

  But Bry…

  Bry twisted in his crib, jerking left and then right. His arms moved as if they were drawn by puppet strings, thrashing while his small back bowed. He gasped, his mouth open wide and those eyes trained on me.

  Pained.

  Accusatory.

  My heart froze, agony overtaking me. I didn’t need to hear his cry to know it didn’t work.

  It didn’t work.

  My lungs collapsed.

  It didn’t work.

  My stomach clenched.

  It didn’t work.

  My heart broke.

  A high-pitched wail split the room, agony filling the drawn out tone and a sob crept up my throat, threatening to break free. The sound grew, louder and louder with each breath, and his face went from a slight flush to bright red. I reached for him, dodging his flailing arms, and pressed my hand to his face. He was burning up, worse than before.

  Much worse.

  A tendril of steam drifted from my son, his temperature so high that it literally burned the water away.

  All of the air in my lungs rushed out, abandoning me in that single instant.

  But I didn’t have time to fall apart and cry. I didn’t have time to beg for Bryony’s life or even make a plea to On High. All I could do was focus on now.

  “What happened?” I thought I shouted the words, but they came out as nothing more than a whispered rasp.

  Jezze leaned over him, hands moving frantically, making signs in the air above my son and casting a few divinations. “I…” She flicked her hand once more, a pulsating red glow forming above Bry. “I don’t know. It should have worked!”

  “Fix it. Fix him. Fix it.” I babbled like a lunatic but didn’t care.

  “I’ll fix it. I can whip something up to cancel—“

  “Go!” I snarled, baring my fangs, my wolf leaping forward. Our pup was suffering—fuck me, he was dying—and there was nothing to be done. I was gonna fall apart as soon as this was done. As soon as I knew he’d keep breathing, I was going to lose what little I had left of my mind.

  I picked up Bry and rocked him back and forth, pressing my lips to his forehead and whispering. I sang. I begged. I sobbed. I wished.

  The potion worked on the others. Why did it make him worse?

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fiery pain my son endured. I fought for calm, calling on my inner nature for help. I couldn’t heal anyone—wouldn’t that have been great—but I could do something about fire.

  I called forward my inner fire, the tendrils of Hell that were a part of every Morningstar. Our family didn’t just rule Hell, we were Hell. And there was nothing Hell enjoyed more than more pain, more heat, just… more. I used that greed, I let it take hold, and I pressed my lips to Bryony’s forehead.

  Then I inhaled, I pulled on the heat coursing through his veins and plaguing his tiny form. I drew it into me, trying to lessen the agony he endured. With each desperate gasp, his temperature slightly lowered.

  But not enough. Not nearly. If he stayed this hot for much longer… Another tear dropped from my eye and sizzled on his pale skin. I didn’t know why he hadn’t succumbed yet. A tween was strong, but this…

  Jezze rushed into the room, small capped vial clutched in one hand. She tugged off the stopper and held it up to his mouth, but I grabbed her hand.

  “This will fix him?”

  She nodded, face grim. “It won’t help his symptoms, but it’ll counter the other potion.”

  “Good enough.”

  And it had to be good enough. I’d already fucked this up. I’d already failed as a mother. I just…

  I just let her feed him the new brew—pour the liquid down his throat. Then we waited once more. I continued to pull heat from him, the overwhelming searing temperature alluring to my demon.

  Within a few minutes, his shaking eased. A few more, and his heat no longer burned my skin. Even more, small trembles were all that was left of the attack.

  And I…

  I fell to the ground. I collapsed onto the hard wood, my son in my arms, and cried. I cried for everything I’d ever lost, everything I’d never have, and everything I wished for. I sobbed, the harsh sounds exploding from my throat, and I curled around my son. I held him in my lap, cradled by my thighs, and leaned forward over his small form.

  And I kept crying, tears kept falling from my eyes and soaking Bry’s clothing, and I couldn’t force myself to let him go. Not yet.

  Not ever.

  “Caith,” Jezze whispered, her small hand softly touching my shoulder.

  The wolf’s response was immediate. I whipped my head around and snapped at her fingers, ready to bite whoever had interrupted time with our pup.

  Jezebeth snatched her hand back and took a large step away. She held out her hands, palms facing me. “Caith, why don’t you put him down?”

  Put who down? What? The small bundle I held wiggled and sighed, reminding me why I’d gotten so violent so quickly. Bryony.

  “No,” I whispered just as quietly. I wasn’t ready to let him go yet. The demon had almost won, had almost taken him from me.

  “I… I can leave you with him and go see—“

  I didn’t care what she did—what anyone did. Not right now.

  “Go.” I turned back to Bry. “Whatever it is, do it.” The wolf calmed, realizing that Jezebeth wasn’t trying to take its pup. It didn’t care what happened as long as Bryony was protected. And the rest of my mind… couldn’t think straight. I was emotional—instinctual. I needed to be left alone with my baby. Period.

  Jezze left me to do whatever it was she wanted to do, and I carried Bry to bed with me. I snuggled him against my chest, leaning against the headboard with pillows supporting my back. My demon nature didn’t want to help me cool Bry anymore. He wasn’t hot enough to be worth playing with. But at least counteracting the initial potion brought his fever back down to something tolerable.

  I kissed his forehead, breathing in that baby scent, and then held him close as I drifted off into a restless sleep. With every sigh, I woke. With every hitched breath, I woke. With every sniffle, I woke.

  Until I just couldn’t sleep anymore. I listened to the house, closing my eyes and monitoring every creak and groan. The house had a rhythm, a cadence to its settling sounds. It was as familiar as my own hand, and I could tell no one stirred—everyone had gone to sleep.

  I was too restless to sit, but too uneasy to release Bry, so I looked for something to occupy my mind for a little while. I reached over and snagged the TV remote, flipping on the television so I could watch the news. I kept the volume low and closed captioning on, seeing what the news had to say.

  The police had uncovered several drug dens, like ones I’d been to earlier, but there was no news about the source and the police had no other leads.

  That wasn’t news, but the rest…

  Tainted water bottles were popping up in more and more places, and under different brand names—nearly every popular brand out there. The police recommended avoiding bottled water, but they couldn’t promise tap water was any safer.

  Then there were more outbreaks at schools. A few at the theme parks and one of the local stadiums.

  No apparent pattern.

  But I noticed one. The water bottles popped up at places where humans gathered in large groups. Places where there were families and children. People who would never touch drugs willingly. The drugs on the streets would end up with junkies and outcasts. The water bottles meant that the demon w
anted the drug spread to the widest segment of the population. They needed to distribute to places where large numbers of innocent, ordinary people would gather.

  Deliberate targeting and it was being done faster than we could keep up with. The humans Sam blessed were only a small portion of those affected. He was one man—one fallen angel. He couldn’t keep up with the rapid spread.

  Even if Jezze perfected her potion, we’d never be able to distribute it to so many and the tween community didn’t have the resources for mass production.

  Bryony whimpered and rubbed his nose against my chest, fussing softly. I stroked his back, soothing him with a gentle touch. His skin was still warm, but cooler than it’d been.

  Except around the brand on his small arm.

  I couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. He was too young to really understand what was happening. Was he scared? Confused? Lost? The one person who was supposed to guide and protect him hadn’t been able to help him.

  I wondered if he would have been better off with his birth mother. If she hadn’t been killed, she’d be the one taking care of him. Maybe she would have done a better job than me. If nothing else, he wouldn’t have been such a large target for the demonic attack. I was certain someone had arranged for Bry’s infection.

  A message to me.

  I’d banned dems from Orlando and now my son was paying the price.

  Now I was running out of options. There was one person left that I hadn’t called on, who might have some answers. I just didn’t want to see her.

  I stared down at Bry’s sleeping face. His features were scrunched up in pain and he fidgeted in the throes of a bad dream.

  I’d stare down the devil himself if it’d help Bryony. Except, it seemed, I’d be staring down the devil’s sister—my mother.

  14

  Admittedly, I was a tiny dickhole when it came to figuring out what to say to my mother and, for now, avoidance was the name of my game. (Personally, I would have called myself a pussy, but after all the births I’d witnessed… A woman’s pussy was hella badass.)