Grave Decisions (Hellgate Guardians Book 3)

by Ivy Asher

  “I like workin’ there,” I tell him honestly. “I wasn’t sure if I would at first, but I really do. I like to talk to everyone. I like to demon watch,” I say with a chuckle.

  “Believe me, Peaches, they’re coming to watch too,” Flint says, a thumb rubbin’ over his bottom lip as he watches where the leather skirt has ridden up my thigh from the way my legs are propped up on Alder’s lap.

  “You mean some of the demons are checkin’ me out?” I ask, just to clarify.

  “Of course they are,” he tells me. “Why do you think I stopped playing so much tonight? Some of them needed to be told to take a walk.”

  My eyebrows go up in surprise. “Now who’s stakin’ a claim?” I joke, but inwardly, I wanna do a little happy dance. First Bob Grace, and now other demons? It’s good to know it’s not just me feelin’ a bit jealous with these two.

  A trio of imps come in just then, and full bowls of gumbo are set in front of us. I have to force myself to slip my legs off Alder’s lap so that I can turn back to the table to eat, but it’s difficult. “Thanks for that,” I tell him as I scoop up my spoon and start diggin’ into the meal. Mmm. Delicious.

  “I’ll rub you anytime, Medley,” Alder says quietly, and I nearly choke on my bite. I don’t think he’s talkin’ about my feet.

  Please don’t let him be just talkin’ about my feet.

  18

  There ain’t a lot of talkin’ as the three of us finish off our bowls. Mama must’ve been chompin’ at the bit to get those imps to work with her, and now that she finally shoved her way into the kitchen, she ain’t ever gonna give up her claim. The food is certainly better than it’s ever been, though. Nothin’ can beat my mama’s cookin’.

  I clear my bowl and lean back in my chair with a satisfied moan and a tummy pat. Both Flint’s and Alder’s eyes snap to mine, and Flint licks his bottom lip and adjusts himself.

  “I thought we might start working with your scythe tomorrow,” Alder declares, and I pull my eyes from Flint’s molten gaze and look over to find a warm butterscotch stare takin’ me in.

  “I still haven’t figured out how to get it to work. It still just looks like a fancy stick,” I remind him, and he nods.

  “I know, and unfortunately, I haven’t found anything in my research that will help. Not until we can speak with Delta. But I figured if you train even with the staff of the weapon itself, you’ll still get used to holding it and the movements to build some necessary muscle memory,” he explains.

  “Yep. At least then you’d be closer to being ready to defend the gate after you’re inducted as a Guardian,” Flint adds, and a flicker of worry settles in my throat.

  “Any word from the ever elusive Delta and her Demons?” I ask, irritation heavy in my tone.

  Alder huffs out an irritated breath of his own. “No, I’m thinking maybe we should just stop in and check that everything is okay. It’s not like them to be this heedless.”

  “They probably haven’t gotten out of bed since what happened in the Vestibule,” Flint defends, not for the first time. “She thought they were dead. That’s gonna leave a mark.”

  “Well, they can take a break from fucking for five minutes and do their duty,” Alder grumbles as he finishes his gumbo. “No pussy is that good,” he adds, and for some reason I’m offended by that comment.

  “Maybe hers is. Maybe it’s so good that they’ve all completely forgotten about their gate, and all they can do is fuck and writhe and moan and play with each other, because nothin’ else will ever feel as good or matter as much,” I say, my tone climbin’ as I defend Delta’s sweet Virginia. But really, I’m inwardly offended that they’re basically implyin’ that no pussy—mine included—could be so good that they’d forget the rest of the world for weeks on end. Ridiculous, I know, but there it is.

  Flint and Alder stare at me, stunned for a moment as I try to breathe through what the hell I just said. To think, I was jealous of Delta before, but this just takes it to a whole new level. She’s gettin’ fucked mornin’, noon, and night by her demons, and I’m just fucked in general. Lucky bitch.

  “We should check on them first thing, just in case,” Flint tells Alder, like there’s a part of him that’s worried that what I said about amnesia-causin’ pussy power could be true.

  “Medley, would you like—”

  A doorbell sounds, interruptin’ whatever Alder was about to say, and both of the guys’ brows dip in confusion.

  “Who’s at the door at this hour?” Alder says as he gets up and makes his way out of the dinin’ room.

  Flint and I both watch the empty doorway for a minute, waitin’ for clues of who it could be to make their way back to us. I hear low voices, and then suddenly, an alarmed shout fills the house. Flint is out of his chair in no time and rushin’ toward the doorway before I can even push out of my seat.

  Worry works its way through my body in time with my suddenly racin’ heart as I jump to my feet. Just as Flint approaches the doorway that leads into the dinin’ room, Mickey, the long lost bartender, appears, makin’ Flint skid to a stop.

  Shock registers on Flint’s face, but before he can open his mouth to ask what’s goin’ on, a tree-like limb extends from Mickey’s body, wraps around Flint’s waist and throws him out of the room with a whip-like crack, a shout and crash soundin’ down the hall.

  I don’t even have time to gasp or make a sound of objection before Mickey is wallin’ up the entryway to the dinin’ room with vines and branches and trunks that sprout directly from his body. In less time than it takes to say I’m a tree hugger, I’m trapped in a room with a demon who looks frantic as all get out and who’s been MIA for weeks now.

  I’m completely stunned by the sudden turn of events, and I’m frozen in place as Mickey’s black eyes settle on me. “Morax says that either you come quietly or he’s going to kill everyone in this house.”

  Terror rockets through me like a wayward firework, explodin’ and shatterin’ things inside of me that will be difficult to repair. Morax? The demon from the bar is here? How the hell did he find me? And why?

  I hear roars and bellows from the other side of the foliage blockin’ the doorway, and I can tell by the vibrations of the leaves that either Flint or Alder is tryin’ to break through. All I can hope is that one of them is also gettin’ Mama and Daddy safely away.

  I barely have time to think before Mickey is closin’ the distance between us. He reaches down and flips the table out of his way, makin’ me flinch as it slams against the wall. Glass rains down as my scream fills the air, my arms up protectively.

  “Medley!” I hear someone shout, and booms explode through the room as they renew their efforts to get to me, but I realize that Mickey hasn’t just blocked the doorway—his strange foliage is spreadin’ all over the walls too, probably on both sides to fortify it so that Flint can’t bust through.

  Mickey reaches for me, his mouth twisted in a snarl. “The Ophidian will have you. The question is, will everything you love still be alive by the time he does?” he asks me.

  The Ophidian? I thought he said Morax wanted me? My thoughts whirl in double-time, tryin’ to piece together what’s goin’ on. Are they the same person?

  Realization dawns on me, and an image flashes through my mind of my daddy holdin’ an ice pack to his head as he was helped up the stairs by two police officers after an attack at the corner store.

  The asshole from the club had someone attack my daddy?

  Mickey’s bark-covered hand wraps around my forearm painfully, but black is already borderin’ my vision, and I know what’s comin’. I stare up into the demon’s eyes, a smirk on my face as he pulls me closer to him. For once, I willingly give in to the darkness that’s always protected me.

  I don’t lose consciousness this time like I always have before, which is strange in its own right, but instead, my vision shifts. The next thing I know, I have the stick in my hand that wasn’t there two seconds ago.

  I hear the ping of meta
l, and I look over to see my stick just turned into a scythe, two massive arched blades poppin’ out of each end. The blades face opposite directions and gleam in the light of the chandelier, and instead of lookin’ at the weapon with a giant what the fuck floatin’ around in my head, I know exactly what to do with it.

  It’s as though someone just downloaded a bunch of badassery into my brain. I not only know how to effectively wield this weapon, I can practically hear it sing with excitement. Holdin’ this thing is like runnin’ into an old friend. I suddenly know that one end will turn this demon to dust, and the other will allow me to slice him up into a pretty little pile of kindlin’. Hmm, which one would be more fun? I ask the black haze coatin’ my vision.

  Kindlin’ it is.

  In a breath, I twist the scythe up and smoothly remove the arm that Mickey is holdin’ onto me with. His screams immediately fill the room, and I back away from his pained bellows and the black blood pourin’ out of his stump. I cross my feet and twirl my weapon like some kung fu master who’s spent her whole life studyin’ and readyin’ herself for this moment.

  Mickey’s pain turns into fury, and a limb comes flyin’ out of his body, aimin’ right for me. Somehow, I manage to dodge the attempted grab and with a twist, remove the limb and one of Mickey’s legs. He wails again, but a new leg and arm instantly bursts out of his trunk-like torso.

  So he can regenerate, but it hurts, I catalog, as I wait for him to make his next move. Calm confidence settles in my every cell. My heart is even, and so is my breathin’. I feel different, like my senses are heightened, and there’s a tinglin’ that erupts down my back like a ticklish itch. I feel capable and ready, as if I can tear this demon apart for even entertainin’ the thought of hurtin’ the people I care about.

  I can tell by the shouts in the hall that he’s still simultaneously occupyin’ the guys with his thick wall of vegetation that’s writhin’ and attackin’. My teeth clench at the thought of him hurtin’ them.

  “You’re just making this harder on yourself,” Mickey spits at me as he struggles to get to his feet on his new limbs while I clutch the scythe in both hands, poised and tense. “The Ophidian is going to get you one way or another. Morax’s plans will not be foiled by some stupid cunt and her bloodline. You and Delta will never be safe. There is nowhere you can hide that he can’t reach you,” he snarls, and then he lunges.

  With a firm grip on the staff of my scythe, I shove, makin’ the weapon hit him square in the chest as he dives for me. With strength I didn’t know I was capable of, the bark-covered demon goes flyin’ back and slams into the branch-covered wall.

  He lands in a heap on the floor, joinin’ the mountain of broken glass left behind from the table he shattered. Without hesitation, I quickly make my way over to him. I’m barefoot and steppin’ on glass, but I don’t feel an ounce of pain as I flip my scythe from the blade that allows me to do damage, to the blade that allows me to reduce this demon to dust.

  I have no idea how I know that, or how I know to do any of this, or how I’m suddenly so damn strong, but I don’t care. I’m awake durin’ a tribulation for the first time in my life, and I’m seein’ exactly what I’m capable of. Instead of bein’ scared or in shock, I feel complete and right in a way I can’t put into words. This is how I was always meant to be. I can feel that I was fractured before, and I know I need to do everythin’ I can to ensure that I’m never broken into pieces that way again.

  I suddenly feel the call of the Hellgate pulsing inside of me, and it makes me pause. I’ve known for weeks that the gate was there, but I’ve never felt a pull to it or a draw like Flint and Alder have described happens to them. It’s been silent for me the whole time I’ve been here, but suddenly, I can feel it now.

  I breathe in its need as its demands ring in my ears. I can feel the weight of it settlin’ like an obligation on my shoulders, and I know it needs somethin’ from me, I just don’t know what.

  Mickey groans and sits up from where he collapsed to the floor. I pull my attention away from the Hellgate and focus back on the demon who thought he could come into my home and threaten my people.

  A voice in the back of my mind inserts that this is technically Flint and Alder’s home and that I need to be less clingy, but I punch that thought across the face, and it goes skitterin’ away.

  I press the blade of my scythe against where I suspect Mickey’s throat is beneath all the tree limbs and lean in closer. “You move one inch, and existence as you know it is over,” I growl.

  He freezes instantly, which is exactly when the bay window to my left explodes. I don’t even flinch as glass comes flyin’ toward me. Shards embed themselves in my skin as my demons come leapin’ into the room, but I don’t feel a thing aside from my fury and desire for retribution. I stand still as a buildin’ as chaos rains down around me.

  Unfortunately for him, Mickey doesn’t do the same. He jerks his body to the side to instinctively protect himself from the pieces of window now flyin’ his way. But all that does is nick his bark-like skin against the blade of my scythe, and with a poof, Mickey just up and turns himself to a cloud of dust.

  Well, crap.

  Alder and Flint land next to me with a thud, and I can feel the rage radiatin’ off both of them. I turn to take them in as they scan the room for the threat that’s no longer here aside from hacked off pieces of wood limbs still bleedin’ on the floor and a ruined dinin’ room.

  “What was that?” I demand, gesturin’ to the window. “I was about to force some answers out of him before you two bull in china shop’ed the window.”

  Both of their furious gazes snap to me, and I see a flicker of surprise on their faces as they take me in and register what I’ve said. It makes me wonder what I look like. I reach over and pluck a large piece of glass from my side and hold it up to see if I can catch my reflection. I look the same, but better. There’s a weird purple haze surroundin’ my body, and I see shadows of somethin’ at my back, but when I look over my shoulder, nothin’ is there. My back itches somethin’ fierce, though.

  “Did he shift away?” Alder growls, his fiery butterscotch eyes reluctantly movin’ from me to search the room again.

  I point to the pile of demon dust at the base of the wall in answer to his question. “Like I said, I was about to get some answers out of him before you two stormed in here and he poofed himself on my scythe.”

  “We thought he was hurting you,” Flint defends, his skin somehow lookin’ a shade darker and harder.

  This must be the impenetrable thing he was sayin’ he could do. I look over to Alder and see that he has a large black rose in his hand like the delicate bloom is somehow a weapon. Knowin’ him, it probably is.

  “Didn’t you assess the situation from outside the window before you came barrelin’ through it?” I ask, and Flint rubs at the back of his neck while Alder tucks the stem of the flower behind his ear.

  “We were in a hurry,” Alder states simply, and then his angry eyes land on me again. “Shit, you’re hurt,” he snaps, and in a blink, both he and Flint are next to me.

  “My parents?” I ask, worry simmerin’ just under all the adrenaline coursin’ through me.

  “Safe,” Alder reassures me as he pulls me closer, and I exhale a relieved breath.

  One second, I’m standin’ in the wreckage of the dinin’ room, and the next, I’m standin’ in the center of a bathroom that’s covered in warm charcoal tiles.

  Well, that was a neat trick. When do I get to learn how to do that?

  19

  Plink.

  Plink.

  Flint pulls another sliver of glass from my arm and drops it into the bowl of bloody shards he’s already plucked from my body.

  Plink.

  Alder is over by the concrete countertop, mixin’ up a couple of potions, using flowers and plants that bloom over his ear. I watch, completely transfixed, as he plucks them right out and adds them to a mortar and pestle. Sometimes he blows on them, and they crumble t
o a fine dust to be added to one bottle or another.

  “Tell me again what he said about you and Delta?” Flint asks as he pulls a long dagger-like piece of glass from my hip.

  I look down to see my tank top and cute leather skirt in tatters, and I take a moment of silence to mourn their loss. I’ll miss you, outfit. You were good to me.

  “He said that the Ophidian is gonna get me one way or another. That Morax’s plans won’t be messed up by me or my bloodline, and that Delta and I will never be safe. He said there is nowhere we could hide that he couldn’t get to us,” I tell them for the second time.

  They’ve been quiet and contemplative while I explain what happened, but I can feel the fury rollin’ off of both of them in waves.

  Plink.

  More glass comes out of my thigh as Flint works his way down, pluckin’ pieces of window and table from my body as he goes. A steady stream of dark red flows down the drain of the massive shower I’m standin’ in. I keep waitin’ for the pain to hit, but luckily, I only feel a small ache pulsin’ through me. I have no doubt that ache is about to get a lot more intense, because the dark film that was over my eyes while I was dealin’ with Mickey in the dinin’ room is recedin’, and with that, I know comes the pain.

  “So, the Ophidian and this Morax demon are one and the same, and for whatever reason, he has a bone to pick with you and Delta,” Alder summarizes as he lifts a bottle of whatever it is that he’s makin’ to his eye and shakes it as he stares at the liquid inside. “You think he could have something to do with the Vestibule battle?” he asks Flint.

  “He could.”

  “Maybe Delta’s and my presence put a kink in somethin’ he was doin’,” I guess, and Flint nods in agreement.

  A soft knock raps at the door, and Alder turns and answers it in three strides. He gives the bottle that’s in his hand to the imp that’s on the other side of the door.