Hell's Fury

by Davis, Dee

  "Maybe we should leave it." She didn’t like the idea of disappointing her father, but right now all she really cared about was getting David out of here. If he was afraid of leaving her here for eternity, she was absolutely terrified of watching him perish here— like this.

  "It can’t hurt to bring it. And after all it is the reason we came."

  "You the mean the reason I came. You came to kill Braun." She tipped her head toward the man’s body as she bent to retrieve the Protector.

  "I did. But I wound up killing him because he’d hurt you. In that moment, Jessie, you were all that mattered."

  "I don’t know what to say." She slowed her pace, her emotions threatening revolt.

  "You don’t say anything. Any more than I’m going to talk about your sacrificing yourself for me."

  "But it wasn’t a real sacrifice. I mean, I wasn’t in any real danger."

  "Well, I didn’t know that at the time. And I think you’d have done it anyway—even if you weren’t immortal."

  She glanced over at him, trying to read his face, but it was impossible to see clearly in the dim light. He hadn’t shunned her when she’d shared the truth. In fact, he’d made it fairly clear that he wasn’t going to let it stand in their way. But then, he hadn’t had time to consider all the implications.

  She shook her head and shifted the box to her other hip. Better to concentrate on getting out of here. She scanned the ceiling as they made their way back down the tunnel. "I don’t see anything."

  "It’s here somewhere. Search the walls, too. It could come in on a slant." As if on cue, the beam of the flashlight hit something dark, a sliver of space no more than a meter wide.

  "That’s it," David said, moving forward to examine the opening.

  "How did we miss it the first time?"

  "Angle’s wrong. And we weren’t really looking."

  "So what do we do now?" Jessie asked. The flashlight beam carried on ten meters or so, then petered out into the darkness. "I don’t see an end, but there’s no way to know for sure."

  "No guts, no glory."

  "An overstatement, surely, but you’ve got a point." She smiled, the gesture wasted. He was already in the opening, moving forward, arms and flashlight first.

  "It gets wider after the first bit," he called back, his voice sounding hollow against the tunnel walls.

  "I’m right behind you." She’d never been particularly fond of small spaces, but she wasn’t about to let David go in without her. Sucking in a breath, she stepped into the darkness, David’s light muted by his body. The box felt hot against her skin as she tucked it to her chest, using it as a buffer against protruding edges of rock.

  The going was tight at first, but David was right, the crevice widened a little as it sloped upward. It was impossible to see anything but his silhouette and the pale beam of the flashlight ahead of him. She could feel cool air on her face, and there were occasional signs of tool marks when the passageway narrowed again. All of which made her hopeful that they’d found a way out.

  "Hang on," David said, raising a hand. "It’s really steep here. I think it’ll be best if I go first and then come back for you."

  "No fucking way." The words were out before she could stop them. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to be crass. It’s just that we seem to do better when we have each other’s backs."

  "All right," David said, accepting her protest without comment, "you take the flashlight and I’ll take the box."

  She nodded, handing him the Protector, and grabbed the flashlight, moving past him into the lead. The floor was slick with moisture, and she had to brace herself against the wall to keep from slipping. But despite the obstacles, she reached the top of the incline with only a minimum of effort, David following right behind.

  "You were right," she said, sweeping the light across the open room. "We’re in a cave." Faint light showed around a rock formation just to their immediate left. "That’s got to be the way out."

  She took a step forward, then stopped as a powerful beam of light struck her full in the face. She whirled around, reaching for David, comforted when his hand closed on her wrist, pulling her back against him, the box sandwiched between them.

  "Do you have the gun?" she whispered.

  "No," he said with a shake of his head. "I lost it when the roof caved in."

  "So what do we do?"

  "Bluff."

  She fought the fear gnawing at her gut, telling herself that as long as they were together they had a chance. "Who’s there?" she asked, raising her hand to shade her eyes from the glare.

  A man emerged from the light, the illumination shifting so that it was no longer blinding. Six others stood behind him, three of them holding halogen lights, the others holding what looked to be assault rifles. "We are the Seven."

  "We don’t want any trouble," David said, edging in front of her, still holding the box.

  "I think you passed that point some time ago," the man said, his gaze settling on the Protector. "Give me the box."

  Jessie shook her head, grabbing the Protector from David before he had a chance to react. "I’m afraid that giving it to you isn’t an option. At least not until I have your word that you’ll let us go." The Templar sighed. "That’s simply not possible." His colleagues lifted their rifles.

  "Then we have a problem." She stepped in front of David, ignoring his protest. "Those guns aren’t going to stop me. But I think you already know that. Which means that as long as I have the box, there’s room for a bargain."

  "What do you want?" the man asked, the others still holding their rifles.

  "I want you to let us go."

  David growled something behind her, but she kept her attention on the group’s leader. She could feel his confidence even from here.

  "I can’t allow that." The man’s eyes glittered silver in the light. "Your friend wanted to open the box. Its power has touched him. There must be payment."

  "But he didn’t open it."

  Again David tried to move around her, but she shook her head and he stopped, his frustration a palpable thing.

  "He wanted to," the man said, "and that alone is enough to condemn him to death. The power of the Protector is not to be taken lightly."

  "Then we’re at an impasse, because I can’t give you the box." She held his gaze, shifting slightly in front of David to be certain that her body blocked the shooters’ line of sight.

  The older man smiled. "Despite your claim, we both know that your regeneration will give me the necessary time to take the box; and kill him. In front of you. Is that what you want? To watch him die?"

  The thought terrified her, but she had a final card to play. "If you make so much as a move toward him, I’ll summon my father. And believe me, when I call, he comes. Especially now that I’ve got the Protector in my possession."

  "And your father would be ... ?" For the first time she felt a flicker of worry emanating from the man in front of her.

  "Obviously you haven’t done your homework," David said, stepping around her, his eyes blazing with anger. "Jessie’s father is the Devil. Capital D."

  The man frowned, turning to converse with one of his comrades. "I must confess I underestimated you both." He was watching her now, as if he could find some sign that David was telling the truth.

  "No cloven hooves or forked tail, if that’s what you’re looking for. But I assure you my father is very real and very interested in obtaining the Protector."

  Even with the diffused light, she could see the man blanch, her pronouncement hitting him hard. "You could summon your father," he said, his eyes meeting hers, "but in the time it would take him to arrive, we can surely manage to kill your friend."

  "Possibly, but the Protector will go to my father. Is that what you want?" It was an empty threat. She wasn’t going to call her father. Not if it put David at risk. But she couldn’t hand over the Protector either. She struggled for a solution, trying to find a way to keep David alive.

  "Perhaps there is ano
ther way," the Templar said, taking a step forward, his wrinkled face offset by the intensity of his eyes. "It is true that we cannot kill you by traditional means. But if you allow it we can take your life."

  "But I’m immortal. No one can kill me. Not even me. And I know because once, a long time ago, I tried."

  "Jessie ...," David started, but she waved him quiet.

  "So what is it exactly you think you’re going to do?" She frowned at the Templar, trying to read his expression, to make sense of what he was saying.

  "Accept your sacrifice. It’s that simple. Your life for his. The power is yours, Jessie, not mine."

  "And you’ll let him live."

  "Surrender yourself and give me the box. And in return, I’ll allow him to go free."

  "You can’t do that." David’s voice echoed off the walls of the cave, his anger vibrating between them.

  "In point of fact, I can." The man shrugged, turning back to Jessie. "So it’s up to you how you want this to end. His life or yours." The Templar waited, his gaze reaching out for her across the space that separated them.

  "Earlier you said he had to die. Why the change?"

  "It turns out that you are the greater prize."

  "You mean that because of my parentage, my death is worth more to you?" She kept her gaze steady, her tone defiant.

  The Templar studied her for a moment, then held out his hands, waiting.

  "You can’t seriously be thinking about doing this." David’s hand closed on her arm.

  "I want you to live," she said, fighting tears. "And this is the only way."

  "I’ll have your answer." The leader was flanked now by the other members of his sect, their eyes reflecting the wisdom of the ancients.

  "I accept," she said, squaring her shoulders. She’d never been surer of anything in her life. "My life for his."

  David’s hand tightened on her arm. She could feel his anger, the emotion colored with his fear. "This is just a ruse, right?" he whispered. "They can’t really kill you. I’ve seen it myself. You can’t die." For a moment she was tempted to tell him the truth, but knew that if she did, he’d never let her go. "I’ll be fine. Just stay here and let me do this."

  "But we can’t trust them."

  She turned to face the Seven. "Swear to me that you’ll honor our bargain—on all you hold holy."

  Again there was silence as the man considered her request. Then he nodded. "You have it. In the name of our Lord."

  "They’re just words, Jessie. They don’t mean anything." David’s eyes were pleading now, his love a tangible thing.

  "In my world, they mean everything." She leaned forward to kiss him, memorizing the taste of him, the feel of his lips. Then she pushed away and walked toward the Templars, their leader meeting her halfway. He reached for the box, and she placed it in his hands, his face curiously devoid of expression.

  "I’m ready," she said.

  "Jessie." David’s voice was sharp, her name echoing in the cavernous dark.

  "It is done." The light flashed white, blinding in intensity. One minute the men were there and the next they were gone. Pain seared through her, robbing her of breath and speech.

  David rushed to her side, his arms enfolding her, his gaze locking with hers. "You’re just regenerating, right?"

  She struggled to breathe, the pain crashing through her body in waves. "Dying...," she whispered on an exhale. "Am dying...."

  "What have you done?" The blood drained from David’s face, his eyes dark with fear.

  "I..." She struggled for air, enough to support the words. "I did it for you." Oddly enough, despite the pain, she felt almost peaceful. Finally, after centuries of searching, she’d found meaning in her life. How ironic that the knowledge came on the heels of her death.

  "Jessie," David cried, rocking back and forth, cradling her like a baby, "you can’t leave me. I need you. You’ve got to fight it."

  "Nothing I... can ... do." She sucked in a breath, summoning the last of her dying strength. "David ..." She felt his hand close around hers, and turned her fingers so that their palms were touching. "I love you."

  Tears streamed down his face as he held her. "I love you, too, Jessie."

  "Histrionics aren’t going to help anyone, young man." With a flourish the voice was followed by her father’s dapper figure. His cravat white against the black of his goatee. "What have you done now, daughter?"

  "Leave her alone. She’s been through enough." David rose, hands clenched, and moved to stand between her and her father.

  "You can stop with the macho posturing," her father said, dismissing David with a wave of his hand. "I’m here to help."

  David stood firm for a moment, studying the older man, and then with a muttered oath stepped aside.

  Her father knelt beside her, his hands steady as they slid behind her shoulders to lift her up. "You could have called me. I would have come for the box."

  "But David would have died." It wasn’t really an explanation, but her father seemed to understand anyway.

  He stroked her hair. "I want you to breathe deeply now, and listen to me."

  She nodded, aware of David, kneeling now, just within sight.

  "I can take you with me now, Jessie. And the pain will all go away. All of this will just be a distant memory." Her father searched her face, and then sighed. "Or I can restore your mortal life."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I’m saying that if you choose to stay here, I can grant you a limited life."

  "With David."

  "Yes." Her father nodded, his face reflecting her pain. "But you have to understand that if you choose the path of mortality, I won’t be able to protect you anymore. And everything you had—your immortality, your special talents—all of it will be gone. There’ll be no turning back. You’ll be on your own."

  "She’ll have me." David’s hand closed on hers, his voice filled with emotion.

  The pain intensified, her ribs seeming to compress over her heart.

  "It’s time, Jessie," her father said, rising to stand over her, his cane lifted toward the ceiling. "Make your choice."

  She fought for the words, her gaze locked on her father’s. "I’m sorry, Daddy, but this is what I want. I choose David."

  "So be it." With a last look, her father waved his cane and disappeared in a flash of red smoke and light.

  David wrapped her in his arms, his heart pounding next to hers. "Is it over? Are you really okay?"

  Jessie tested a breath, and then another, the air flowing freely into her lungs. The pain had diminished, leaving only a dull throbbing in her head. "I have a headache."

  "You sound like that’s a good thing," David said, pulling back to frown down at her.

  "I’ve never had a headache before, David," she said, grinning like an idiot. "Don’t you see? I’m human. Really, truly human. If you cut me, I’ll probably bleed."

  "I’ll take your word for it," he said with a laugh.

  She leaned back against David, staring at the spot where her father had disappeared. She’d never see him again, and yet she knew that in setting her free, he’d proved his love. And that she’d carry with her always.

  David pulled her close, his arms warm, his heart beating a rhythm against her ear. His eyes settled on the spot where her father had disappeared. "Are you sure you won’t miss it?"

  She tipped back her head, looking at the man she loved. "All I want is you. Nothing else matters at all."

  He bent his head, his lips hard against hers, the kiss a covenant— a promise of things to come. For the first time in her very long life she had everything to live for.

  "Looks like the cavalry’s arrived a bit too late," Faust said, stepping into the cavern, his lantern banishing the shadows once and for all. "I always miss out on the fun. I take it everything is all right now?"

  Jessie snuggled closer to David, smiling up at her friend. "Everything is perfect, Faust. Absolutely perfect."

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  An excerpt from Julie Kenner's Raising Hell (the first book in The Devil May Care Series)

  Lila fidgeted on her stool, unnerved by how much she'd revealed to this man. He probably thought she was an idiot, the way she'd blathered on and on. There was something about him, though. Something that drew her in and, apparently, affected her as potently as a few strong drinks.

  Lord knew, he loosened her tongue. Not to mention that his mere proximity left her feeling warm and decadent. Itchy, even, but in a wholly sensual way. Like she might die if he didn't scratch the itch... and she might melt if he did.

  "So will you?" she asked, shaking off the languor in her bones. "Will you sketch me now?"

  He leaned back, his silver-gray eyes examining her with an almost feral intensity as he looked her up, then down. She tried to sit still, but couldn't quite manage. The heat of his gaze was so intense it might have been a caress, and her nipples peaked under his scrutiny, raising hard nubs under the soft Lycra of her top. Instinctively, she started to cross her arms over her chest, but fought the urge, keeping them at her sides, and feeling more exposed—and more turned on—than she ever had in her life.

  His inspection finished, he met her eyes, the corner of his mouth curving up into a silent smile. He turned away, saying nothing, then took a quick sip of his scotch. He reached for two cocktail napkins, pulled them close, then patted his mouth with one.