Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy)

by Celia Kyle

  I yanked a notepad out of my back pocket and sketched out the symbols, hoping someone—ugh, probably my mother—could identify them. These types of runes were typically personalized in a way that could identify the being or destination.

  Sam stood over my shoulder, studying alongside me. “There’s something strange about these.”

  “Other than the fact that all we’ve found are clueless drugged out humans who don’t know what they summoned?” I pushed to my feet and tucked the notepad away.

  He nodded and then held a hand over the circle. “The energy here is… different. It doesn’t feel like a normal portal to Hell.”

  I frowned, staring at the circle. “Not hell? Where else is it gonna go?”

  He didn’t have an answer for that one, but it gave me one more piece of the mystery. I made a metal note, hoping the information could be useful later.

  One anonymous phone call to the police later, and we vacated the scene before the authorities arrived. The junkies would end up at a clinic or behind bars. Either way, they were off the streets.

  And since we had more questions than answers, I decided we’d go visit my good friend Killian Howe. He’d been almost helpful before. Maybe I’d ask the right question today. No matter what, I was getting shit outta this guy.

  I ignored the lesbian siren, not even looking at the temptation she presented, and strode right into his office. I slapped the notepad down on his desk. “Recognize this?”

  He leaned back, small smirk in place while he tapped his fingers together.

  “Right. Wrong question.” I was already glad I’d left Sam in the car. With his current state of mind, he probably would have dived after the lawyer already. I tried to think of a way to rephrase my question to get the right answers out of him. “Is someone using these circles to summon demons from Hell?”

  He spread his hands. “Are you sure that’s where the circles lead?”

  I nodded, acknowledging the vague answer. It tied with what Sam and I had discussed. There might be some sort of alternate dimension at work. Something only a superior being would be able to utilize. “Some someone’s summoning… something… from somewhere. Why?”

  Killian shook his head. “’Why’ is a question that is meaningless in itself.”

  I cocked my head and pursed my lips. “Why isn’t the question.” I stared off in the distance, thoughts rolling. “The question I need answered is ‘Who?’”

  Killian didn’t say anything, but his eyes spoke for him. I was getting close. If I ever found out what sort of spell or contract was holding his tongue, I’d kill the caster so I wouldn’t have to do this back-and-forth bullshit again.

  “Okay, who?” I paced back and forth in front of his desk, noting that my mother’s painting was now missing, a blank space on the wall. Heh. “It has to be some figure with enough power to influence the tween in this way. Someone who works from the shadows. Who doesn’t care who gets hurt. Sometime trying to get back at…”

  Me.

  A small grin spread my lips and I snapped my fingers and then pointed at Killian. “Okay, man-sized, demonic eight ball, riddle me this. Who’s the megalomaniac I damaged most by banning the dems from mouse town?”

  Killian returned my grin. “Who’s tired of suppressing his power? And is this dem only interested in paying you back for the ban?”

  He hauled me around in mental circles, but he had a point. I’d taken this personally, but it was possible there was more than I’d realized.

  Was the one responsible trying to get back at me to get past my ban? Or did they have a bigger agenda and circumventing the ban was just one piece of a larger puzzle?

  “All right, then.” I didn’t thank him for the half-assed information. I just walked away, right past that blank spot on the wall. Maybe I’d send the devil’s advocate one of my uncle’s paintings from when he’d been pretending to be Andy Warhol. A great big soup can painting would be pretty there.

  15

  A letter from City Hall waited for me when I got back to Momma R’s. I skimmed the contents and rolled my eyes at the blah, blah, blah, no wrongdoing, super sorry, and so on. It was all official and apologetic and made absolutely no mention of me handling Meadow for his lying cheating ass. Or getting her clean and getting her under control. Of course, Boyd couldn’t go on the record with that, but at least he’d kept his word and called off his dogs.

  It saved me the trouble of stomping back to City Hall to beat the shit outta him. Admittedly, I was a little disappointed. It would have been a lot of fun to toss him out of his second-story window. What? It wasn’t like the fall woulda killed him.

  I held up the letter, waving it while I spoke to Momma R. “That’s one less thing to worry about.” I tossed the folded piece of paper on the coffee table and sighed, releasing some of the worry with a roll of my shoulders.

  Momma R just hummed, continuing her slow, gentle rocking of her chair. She held Bryony close, giving him comfort while I couldn’t. “Everything will work out.”

  I wished I could believe her, but when Bry fussed and whined, I wasn’t so sure.

  “You should get some rest. You haven’t been sleeping.”

  I snorted. “I can’t rest. I’ve got a demonic conspiracy, a sick baby, a bar to reopen, a fallen angel who needs my help, and gee,” I snapped my fingers, sarcasm out in full force, “the liquor license is up for renewal, and I don’t know if I can afford it with the bar being closed so many nights in a row.”

  Hypothetically (in reality) I was beginning to regret my “I’m not only kicking dems out but also not going to live off of dem-generated income.” Oh, I had the money. I was just cutting off my nose to spite my face. Each day that passed and each worry that piled on, I was super wishing I wasn’t such an asshole.

  “Yes, but you’ll manage all of that a lot better with a little rest. Trust me.” She eased from the rocking chair and padded toward me. “I’m your mother.”

  Yes, she was my mother—the mother of my heart. Age wasn’t a factor in our relationship. I’d outlived her by centuries, but for some reason she just… knew. Knew how to handle me, how to love me, and that was something I’d been taking for granted. I leaned forward, careful not to jostle my son, and kissed her cheek.

  “Thanks, Momma,” I whispered in her ear and I got a soft kiss in return, a wave of love coming with that small connection. “You win. Me and kiddo can have naptime together.”

  Maybe we’d nap until dark. I couldn’t summon my bio-mom until after nightfall. I could swing it during the day, but it took more energy. Energy I needed to stay on my toes and ready for the next round of drama.

  “Good.” She handed over the little bundle of awesome. “He’s dry and had a bottle thirty minutes ago. He should be comfortable for a while.”

  Plus, my kid was an awesome sleeper. It was one thing I’d been thankful for when I adopted him.

  I took him upstairs to my room and we settled into bed, me on one side, Bry in the middle, and pillows on the other to keep him corralled. He snuggled in immediately, his light weight against my side. To many, I was evil incarnate. To Bry, I was simply his Tempmomma who he trusted above anyone else. It was scary as hell.

  Him at my side, my body between him and the door—possible danger—I let myself drift. I let the weight of exhaustion drag me down into the river of sleep. Dreams haunted me, my fears pushing their way into my subconscious and chasing me through the shadows. They surrounded me, pushed and pulled me down a path I couldn’t see. I found myself surrounded, caught in the middle of something bigger than me, stronger than me, and the darkness kept creeping closer.

  Closer and closer until…

  Bry’s scream sliced through my restless sleep, jolting me awake in an instant. I reached for my weapons, always around, never forgotten. Half the time, I didn’t realize I’d disarmed until I instinctively grasped it from the end table. I scanned the room for danger, ready to behead anything that came near my baby boy. I’d kill whatever had him
crying in fear… and pain.

  I spied him in the middle of the room, arms flailing, his little legs carrying him toward the wall opposite the bed. The glowing wall.

  I would have been proud of him for taking such strong steps, except he was heading toward the burning circle that was slowly forming on the flat surface. Demonic runes flared around the burning sphere, filling the room with a sickening red and orange light. Shadows seemed to reach out from the center, tendrils of darkness reaching for Bry. They swirled and twined, whipping out to skim his arms and his legs. Small smudges were left in their wake, each touch painting his skin grey.

  “Fuck no.” I leapt from the bed and grabbed Bry, pulling him away before that darkness could get a grip on his small body. The shadows writhed and wailed, whipping through the room, but not quite reaching me. They snapped back through the circle and then a hot, sulfurous wind blew through the room. A resounding crack filled the air, ground shaking with the sound, as if the passageway had snapped shut with their retreat.

  I held Bry, cradling his face against my chest in comfort—for both of us. The room was still, the circle on the wall dark. The markings remained, the only evidence of the portal’s existence. A pentagram covered with the same runes Sam and I had seen in the drug dens now stained the wallpaper. I didn’t need to check my notebook to verify they were identical.

  I shuddered, unable to imagine what kind of dark horrors had been trying to take my son. Or where he would’ve ended up.

  The rapid patter of feet racing through the house reached me and soon Momma R and Jezze burst into the room. Both women glowed brightly, their magic pulsing just beneath their skin. They looked ready for battle, ready to bring the pain… even if Jezze walked on her heels because she’d just painted her toes.

  Both women stared at the wall, eyes wide, and Jezebeth recovered first. “What the fu—“ Momma R glared at her daughter, “fudge?”

  Any other time, I would have congratulated Jezze on her save, but now wasn’t one of those times. Not when the summoning circle still smoked and smoldered, the dark stain spreading with the heat. It pulsed throughout the room, reminding me of what it’d almost accomplished.

  Momma R carefully approached the smoking circle, Jezze right behind her, and I focused on Bry. He sniffled and huffed against my shoulder, uneasy and afraid. I rubbed his back, bouncing him lightly while I hugged him close and did my best to soothe him. My palms were soon covered in the black that’d stained his body, the sooty remnants of those wraith-like arms. I brought my hand to my nose, sniffing the soot. Sulfur, evil, hate… so very, very familiar.

  “It’s closed.” Jezze glanced over her shoulder and Momma R nodded, agreeing with her daughter.

  Yes, it was closed. Worse, however, was the knowledge that no one in the tween had created that portal. It’d been opened from the other side.

  16

  Jezze and I ripped down the burned wallpaper, both of us leery about using magic or hellfire to cleanse the area. We doused it in holy water and then painted over the whole thing, just to be on the safe side. There was no way to know if whoever—or whatever—opened the portal could do it again. It made no sense to make it easy for them by leaving the circle in place.

  The sun dipped closer to the horizon, giving way to the moon and bringing night closer. I stared at the dimming light, knowing I couldn’t put this off any longer. “I need to go see Mom.”

  Jezebeth came to my side, both of us watching the sun disappear. She leaned her head on my shoulder and I rested my cheek on top of her head. “We’ll watch over Bry.”

  I was tempted to tell them to take him somewhere else—anywhere else. But in truth, Momma R’s house was as safe a place as any. Whoever opened that portal could do it anywhere. They’d bypassed Momma R’s wards. They’d be able to get past any defenses. At least with Bry here, he had two powerful witches to watch over him.

  “Keep him safe. Don’t take your eyes off him for one second.” Because, fuck, if I lost Bry… I wasn’t sure if I could ever come back from that. I mourned losing Sam, but we had forever. Immortality had its benefits and one of those had been hope that we’d end up together eventually.

  Bry… I knew I’d have to lose him someday and I refused that to be any moment before he was ancient. Even then, I’d wiggle and worm my way into getting him blessed—or damned—by someone so he could live forever.

  I drove to the edge of the city, not far from the field where I’d summoned that useless imp. As soon as I was outside the city limits, I parked and got out, ready to call on Mom.

  Though, as it turned out, I didn’t have to deal with opening a portal at all. She was already here.

  “I should have known you’d be waiting,” I grumbled and stomped across the field toward her. My mother could cross barriers at will. Which also meant she was on the list of potential suspects we’d compiled. As much as I’d wanted to strike her name from the list, I knew better. She was perfectly capable of doing everything that’d happened these past days. And even if she wasn’t directly responsible, she was probably enjoying being a spectator.

  She always liked watching me suffer.

  Mom tilted her head to the side, red eyes skating over me. I tried to figure out what might be bouncing around inside her crazed head, but I couldn’t even begin to fathom the depths of her depravity. She wasn’t anything close to human, and she didn’t have anything that could even be compared to mortal emotions.

  She thrived on suffering, hate, and malice.

  Y’know, in case anyone wondered where I got my temper.

  “I need information, Mom.” No sense in playing with faux niceties.

  She nodded. “That’s why I’m here.”

  I snorted. “Yeah. Right. You knew your little girl needed you, and you came racing across the dimensions to help.”

  Her expression remained frigid and I wasn’t sure if she got my sarcasm. “What do you need, Caith?”

  “What do you know about what’s been happening in my town?” And it was still mine, it’d still be mine, when this shit was said and done.

  Her gaze grew distant, drifting off to the side. “There have been whispers. No one talks of the truth. I can’t be sure I know what you’re asking me.”

  I crossed my arms. “Someone has been sneaking a demon drug into the city and giving it to both tweens and humans. Whoever it is has been opening circles that serve as some sort of summoning spell, but they’re different.”

  There was a flash of recognition in my mother’s eyes and she was subjected to her red-eyed stare once more. “Not summoning circles. If you’d studied the dark arts more, like I wanted you to, instead of running off to play swords with your first father, you’d understand that.”

  For the love of… We were not going to talk about the dads as if they were merely numbers instead of living beings. “Papa Leth taught me everything I needed to survive this long. I’m alive because of him.”

  Especially—like last year—when I was faced with over twenty zombies all looking to make me dinner.

  We were also not going to address my failings as an evil daughter and that I disappointed her for not living up to her expectations. “P.S. We’re not doing the ‘you aren’t the daughter I wanted’ run around right now. Just tell me. What are they?”

  “Gates.” She said the word as if it was so obvious. Her silent “duh” hanging in the air. Though, really, as behind the times as she was, I wasn’t sure what she’d use instead of “duh.” “You can tell the difference by the runes that mark them.”

  “What’s the difference?” Because as loathe as I was to admit, she did know more than I did.

  She gestured her hands the same way she always had when trying to teach me something. A floating model hovered in the air, fake miniatures of a summoning circle and “gate.” “A summoning circle is one-way. You bring something here.” A fiery imp crawled through one circle, dancing around and juggling its own head. I wasn’t going to laugh. I wasn’t. “And you have the power
to send it back.” She closed her hand in a fist, the projection disappearing from sight with a flare of smoke. “Gates, on the other hand, work both ways. The one who opens the gate doesn’t have the same power as a summoner. Whatever comes through is able to resist whoever brought them to the tween. It makes the demon difficult to banish.”

  I remembered the way I’d sent my mother back to hell when I’d closed my summoning circle. I’d never thought about the distinction between ritual circles, but the idea that something could come through without me being able to send it back sent chills racing up my spine.

  It also sounded like the type of magic any mortal warlock would be a fool to mess with. Any time I’d heard of a witch or warlock using a circle, it was to bind a demon to their will. They’d either get information out of the dem or force it to perform a task. Dems hated being forced to do the bidding of a tween, which was why binding rituals had to be completed with precision. If things went wrong, you better me damn sure you sent them back before they ripped the summoner into bloody pieces.

  “Who’s using them? Uncle Luc? ‘Cause that bastard hasn’t been answering me for days.”

  “He has been… evasive.” She shrugged as if she didn’t care. Then again, she didn’t. “I can’t say for sure what he’s up to. He’s been busy, traveling far beyond the ninth circle. He’s been traveling so much that no one in the nine Hells can track him.” Mother pursed her lips. “I must admit. I haven’t seen him in some time.”

  I frowned at that. Uncle Luc wasn’t one to announce his comings and goings, but he didn’t keep things from his own sister. He might be the Prince of Lies, but that didn’t mean he was secretive. He was more the openly plot and scheme kind of guy.

  I also couldn’t figure out how his behavior tied him to Killian Howe. If Lucifer was up to something big, why did he send his devil’s advocate to the tween to offer me cryptic, if occasionally useful, advice?

  “You’re worried.” My mom had floated closer while I was lost in my thoughts and she reached out to touch my cheek. I flinched, taking a step back and out of her reach. Her touch had never been comforting or soothing. All I got from her was pain. Instead of commenting on my evasiveness, she lied. “I’ve missed you.”