by Ivy Asher
I roll my eyes at myself. I’m just horny, that’s all this is. After Iceman leaves, I’ll bust out my favorite toy and spend some time taking the edge off. Maybe then my brain can crawl back up from my clit, and I can handle shit like a grown ass woman instead of some lovesick Seventeen magazine reading teenager. I have serious demonic shit to figure out, and none of it includes testing anyone’s orgasm-giving abilities or sampling what their tongues taste like.
As if sensing that I’ve mentally pulled away, Iceman leans back, allowing oxygen to once again flood my brain and activate my good sense. I can’t help but notice the flicker of disappointment flash over his eyes. “When you’re done, we want to take you to meet a friend of ours. He had a similar not my problem take on guarding his Gate, and we thought it might be helpful for you two to chat.”
“His Gate?” I ask, confused. “There’s more than one Gate to Hell?”
“Oh yes, there are three in the continental US alone. Even more throughout the rest of the world, but don’t worry, we’re just responsible for this one. It just happens to be the most unstable one at the moment.”
I let that information steep for a moment, not sure how it all works, but I suppose I’m about to get a crash course in all of it. I try to swallow back the surging doubt that slams into me, declaring that I’m not ready for this. That knee-jerk reaction isn’t wrong, but who is ready for any major life-altering changes when they move through your life like a wrecking ball? It’s like my kitchen last night—it’s easy to get overwhelmed and only see the disaster that it was, but with a little help and effort, you can uncover the possibility beneath the rubble. I need to focus on that now.
I take my last bite and put my plate in the sink. “Okay, let’s do this,” I announce with more confidence than I feel.
Iceman smiles warmly and offers me his hand. I hesitate for a moment before taking it. “Just remember, Maverick, from here on out, we got you,” he promises.
I try not to let his words coax out too much emotion, but for a couple of seconds, it’s a battle. He pulls me into the living room, and I can’t help but love the feeling of his cold palm against mine. It’s not cold like ice, but cold like a brisk breeze that’s both invigorating and refreshing. I find myself rubbing my thumb against the back of his hand, and I blush when I realize what I’m doing.
Iceman turns to me. “Ready?” he asks, and I can tell that he really wants to make sure that I’m okay with this.
My eyes move away from his earnest gaze, and I double check everything that’s inside of me, clearing away any lingering hesitancy and doubt. My gaze lands on the scythe that’s still nestled together with my umbrella and my recently returned bat that looks pretty damn mangled. I pull my hand out of Iceman’s cool blue grasp and walk over and pluck the Hell weapon from the holder.
“I am now,” I tell him, and with that, he grabs my hand once more.
Abruptly, my living room dissolves around me, and with a pop, my world explodes into sunshine and color.
14
“What the fuck?” I shriek as my cozy house in Sandpiper disappears.
I’m no longer in the safety of my home. Instead, I’m surrounded by knee high grass, funnel-shaped trees stretching high above me, the smell of swamp, oppressive heat, and blindingly bright sunlight.
I shield my eyes, lean against my scythe, and do my best to convince the eggs I just ate to stay in my stomach instead of making a surprise reappearance. “What the hell was that, Rafferty?” I ask, dropping his real name to let him know that was not cool.
“I just shifted us here,” the blue demon explains matter-of-factly, like it’s no biggie that he just up and popped us into existence somewhere else.
I brace the scythe and my hands on my knees, taking in deep gulps of air. “I thought you were just gonna drive us somewhere or something!” I say as I straighten up and look around. I have no idea where we are. “You could warn a girl first,” I scold, the words losing some of my ire as I take in everything around us and try not to admire what he just did.
I wonder if I could learn to do that. I wouldn’t need to buy another moped if I could master this little demon trick. No more traffic jams. I could just click my demonic heels together and appear where I needed to be. I’m about to open my mouth to ask if that’s something all demons can do when the air around us crackles slightly, and then out of nowhere, Crux, Echo, and Jerif pop into place around us.
I stagger back at their sudden appearance, bumping into Iceman’s arm. “Hey, Delta,” Crux greets with a boyish grin that lights up his whole face. I know he’s a demon, but right now I’m getting serious excited puppy vibes. It’s kind of adorable.
Echo rolls his black eyes and then glances over at me. “Crux has been pouting for ages about you quitting. But now that you’ve agreed to check out the other Gates, he’s all smiles,” he says dryly, earning a smack on the arm from his surfer-demon counterpart.
“Well, I figured it’s something I should do,” I say awkwardly, not yet brave enough to look over at Jerif.
“We’re glad,” Echo tells me, and I give him a small smile as he tugs on the collar of his black shirt.
Out of all of them, he looks the most uncomfortable out here in the sweltering sun, his pale skin looking decidedly angry about being away from his shadows.
“So...where exactly are we?”
“Okefenokee Swamp,” Iceman replies.
“Oh-key fuck who-key?” I ask, making Crux snicker and hold up a fist for me to bump.
Echo gives me a droll look. “What, never heard of it? It’s only one of the Seven Natural Wonders of Georgia.”
“I must’ve ignored that geography lesson just like I ignored...well, pretty much every school lesson,” I say dryly.
“Come on,” Iceman says as he begins to move through the grass. “This way.”
The sound of cicadas engulfs the air as thick as hail, the noise pelting my eardrums. The four of us follow behind Iceman as he leads the way, and in just a few yards, we make it to the edge of the swamp water, the warm, moist air becoming even more overbearing.
Right there waiting for us is a boat that resembles a bobbing tin can lid. And on that boat is a...thing. I’m not sure how else to describe it. It has long stringy hair that looks like the grass we just walked through, and a body shape that most closely resembles a soda bottle. Its skin texture seems to match the sludge at the bottom of the swamp, like if I touched its face, I could move it around and build a sludge-castle.
“Imp,” Crux says into my ear, as if he knew the question was on the tip of my tongue. “She works for us.”
“That’s a she?” I whisper back.
Crux blinks at the creature in the metal boat and cocks his head. “Huh. Actually, I’m not sure, now that you ask.”
Shaking my head with a smile, I watch as Iceman approaches the imp. They talk back and forth in that guttural demonic language of theirs, and then Iceman steps into the boat, followed closely by Jerif and Echo.
“Ready?” Crux asks.
I eye the bobbing boat as it pitches from side to side, and I frown. “Um, actually—”
He doesn’t let me finish my hesitant sentence and, instead, just starts tugging me toward the boat. A boat which is completely flat bottomed, without any sides, and has a huge fan at the back to propel it forward. “Uh, what kind of boat is this?” I ask nervously.
“An airboat,” Crux answers.
“Someone forgot to install sides,” I hiss as he continues to drag me forward. “I don’t think we’re supposed to ride in a boat without any sides. This is just a questionable raft. Are you sure it can hold all of us? I mean, no offense, but you guys look heavy.”
Crux just chuckles, like I’ve said a joke, but when I feel the ground grow spongy, I dig in my heels. The surfer demon doesn’t even falter. He just grips both of my arms, picking me up straight off the ground. He easily steps into the boat while holding me up, and I squeal a bit when it sways as our weight is added to it.
/>
He plops me down next to him, but I quickly scramble away to sit in the tiny middle bench seat to better distribute the weight. I plant the scythe down in front of me like it’s a steadying mast and hold onto it for dear life. The last thing I want is to go tipping over. Also, the middle seat seems the safest in case an alligator comes along to check out a boat with no fucking sides! I mean, we’re practically floating dinner, for fuck’s sake. The guys can deal with that, because no thank you. Those things are just dinosaurs with anger issues, and I don’t want anything to do with them.
“For real, why doesn’t this boat have sides?” I ask the four demons around me, feeling indignant that I’m the only one who seems worried about this.
Iceman takes one look at me and tilts his head. “Um, Maverick, I think it might be best if someone else holds onto your Hell weapon for a bit. I’m a little worried your anxiety is going to get someone stabbed.”
I look from Iceman’s concerned gaze to the white-knuckled hold I have on the black wood and metal stick. Shit. Maybe he’s right. I shakily hand it over, grabbing onto the bench beneath my ass when the boat bobs again.
“It’s fine, Delta,” Iceman assures me, like those words alone will stem the freak out I’m currently having. He sits down and holds the Hell weapon at his side like he really doesn’t want to touch it at all.
The imp does something behind me, and then the huge fan turns on, the motor instantly drowning out the loud ass cicadas.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice pitched high so that I can be heard over the fan. Whatever answer I was going to get is cut off as the imp guns the engine and we start fucking flying down the water.
Completely unprepared for the speed, my body tips forward, and I land head-first in Jerif’s crotch. I would be embarrassed, but I’m too worried about falling into the alligator-infested waters, so when the boat suddenly turns in a fucking ninety-degree angle—I swear, this imp is trying throw one of us out—I just scream and then let myself fall to the floor of the metal boat and grab hold of Jerif’s leg like I’m a tree hugger straddling a redwood. I am not letting his leg go for anything.
Jerif’s fiery eyes blink down at me where I’m clinging to his calf, my hair flying all around me as we speed through the swamp. “Yeah, I know we had a fight,” I snap at him. “But I am not fucking letting go right now, so just deal with it.”
He rolls his eyes, but luckily, my death-grip must deter him from objecting, because he just leaves me be.
“Who knew she’d be afraid of boats,” Echo says conversationally.
“It doesn’t have any sides!” I snap, making him and Crux chuckle.
I swear, all four of them have model hair right now, as the wind blows their strands back from their faces like they’re doing a photoshoot. Mine, on the other hand, is tangling all up in my fucking face, some of it somehow snagging between my teeth like floss.
“Would you like to sit beside me?” Iceman offers, patting the metal bench to his right.
“Nope. Gonna keep holding onto Hot Lava. Because if I go overboard, I won’t feel all that bad about taking him with me.”
Jerif snorts, but otherwise doesn’t reply.
I’m not sure how long the boat ride lasts, but by the time it slows to a stop and I can shove the hair out of my face—and teeth—my fingers are sore from my clawed raptor-hold on Jerif, and I have no doubt that I’ve left very deep fingernail indentations into his smooth black leg.
Standing up, I don’t wait for any of the demons. I practically jump out of the metal raft, landing on a dilapidated wooden dock that has so much green moss growing on it that I can barely see the wood.
The guys disembark behind me, and I look around, noting the sagging wooden building several hundred feet away. There are more docks up and down the swamp with boats parked, and I can hear banjo music coming out of the building that has a tiny neon sign over the door that reads Hairy Dog Tavern.
“What are we doing at a hillbilly bar?” I ask, my brows pulling together in a frown.
“One of the Hellgates is here,” Iceman replies as he hands me back my scythe and smooths his suit jacket over himself. I don’t know how the hell he looks so good or how he’s not dying from being overheated. I’m already sweating balls out here, and I’ve only been out of the boat-made wind for about sixty seconds. The underarms of my purple shirt are damp with circles, and I can feel how clammy my skin is.
“Why aren’t you guys sweating?” I ask, my tone accusatory. I point at Crux. “Crux is the only one who is.”
“Hey, I’m not sweating, I’m glistening,” Crux retorts before running a hand through his damp sideburns and sweeping back his blond hair.
“Yeah, but the rest of them aren’t even glistening,” I reply. “It feels like Satan’s asshole out here after he’s had fiery diarrhea. What the fuck?”
Echo tips his head back and laughs, and my attention is immediately drawn to the fact that the tattoos usually wrapped around his arms have moved—again—and they seem to be stretched into long and widening shadows that are currently protecting him from the oppressive sun.
“I can shade myself,” he answers. “Hot Lava over here doesn’t feel hot, because his blood legitimately runs as hot as lava. And Rafferty, your proclaimed Iceman, doesn’t get hot. He always runs ice-cold. Crux is more susceptible to the Mortal Realm’s elements because he’s a Trēs demon.”
I let all of that soak in. Iceman always runs ice-cold? Huh, guess I was wrong in thinking he chose that call sign because he was a Val Kilmer fan. It makes sense though, when I remember how he wrapped around me during my overheated freak out at the mansion. “Well, why don’t I get any handy no-sweating demon tricks?” I ask, picking my hair up off the back of my neck to fan it.
“Not sure, but you look cute with your cheeks all flushed and your brow beaded with sweat like you’ve just gotten fucked for two hours straight and you’re still boiling with lust,” Crux says casually, elbowing me slightly with his tanned, muscled arm.
I choke on air, and my eyes widen, while my stomach tightens. A salacious smile sneaks across Crux’s face, and my vagina really likes the things that smile is doing for us. My coughing fit ends, and I try and fail to think of a witty comeback.
“Wow, that was quite the visual,” is all I manage to come up with.
To keep from slapping a hand to my forehead like I want to, I braid my hair over my shoulder instead. I should really remember to bring extra hair ties. Maybe I can wrap a couple around this scythe thing, since it seems to be my destiny to have it with me. I make a mental note to do just that the next chance I get.
“Yep. It’s just one of the many delicious thoughts I have going on up here,” Crux replies, pointing to his temple and sucking me back into the dirty talk.
I snort, doing my best to pretend like I’m not flattered or flustered by his words as the thoughts crash through my mind. I shove them away for review at a later, more private time, as Iceman starts to lead the way down the dock and toward the bar. The five of us walk single file on a pathway that’s made of smashed beer cans shoved into concrete. When we make it to the building and past the swinging doors of the bar, I see immediately that there’s a lot of what the fuck going on in here.
I stop in my tracks, taking in the large room. My eyes don’t really pay attention to the bar that seems to be made up of old wine barrels, or the banjo player who’s sitting on top of one of the tables in the middle of a fiery ring, or even at the dozens of demons that are inside showing off their horns, tails, wings, and fangs. Instead, my eyes are glued on the white canines that seem to have been glued to every inch of the ceiling.
“Are those…”
“Alligator teeth? Yep,” Echo replies before stuffing his hands in his pockets as his black eyes seem to soak in the shadows of the room.
I drag my glance away from the toothy ceiling and look around, the stench of alcohol overwhelming. At least there’s A/C in here. I feel gloriously cool air blowing around me, d
espite the flames in the center of the space. “What is this place?”
“Demon bar,” Crux tells me as we start following Iceman, who’s moving toward a table near the back. When we walk by one of the tables, a demon with four arms reaches out and slaps me on the ass with two of his hands, one right after the other.
“Keep your hands to yourself, fucker!” I say, my mouth popping off before my brain can warn me away from telling off the scary demon who could definitely kick my ass.
“You smell real nice,” he drawls before reaching forward to snag my arm.
I don’t even have time to wrench away or smash this prick in the head with my scythe like I want to before Iceman is there, standing between us. “She’s with us.”
I peer over his arm and see the demon blanche. “Rafferty, that you?”
Iceman nods tersely, and the demon whistles, revealing a mouth with a row of sharp black teeth. “Sorry, didn’t know she was yours. I won’t touch her.”
“Good.”
Iceman turns to me and places his hand on the middle of my back, steering me away. I know I shouldn’t preen at the protective and possessive gesture he just displayed, but I can’t help it.
When we get to the empty table, he pulls out a chair for me to sit in. I slide into the wooden seat and lean my walking stick from Hell against the table, while he and Crux take the chairs on either side of me. Echo and Jerif sit across from us, and a barmaid immediately comes over.
This one is definitely an imp too, but her sins must not have been too terrible, because she’s not as grotesque looking as our boat driver. She has four eyes, sure, but she also is still rocking some pretty nice cleavage, which is probably how she nabbed this job.
