Wicked Road to Hell Read online

  The clerk behind the desk stood straight when he spied Samael, and though he appeared calm, his thin shoulders shook slightly as they hunched forward.

  “Master.” His tone was flat though respectful.

  Samael arched a brow. “Anyone check in tonight?” he asked casually. He smiled as the clerk swallowed thickly and nodded.

  Silence fell between them and he leaned in close. “I’m not a mind reader”—he flexed his fingers—“though there are ways.”

  The tall man jumped, his Adam’s apple bobbed in a fluttery motion as he cleared his throat. “Sorry, master. Yes, a couple came in, uh, I don’t know about—”

  “Number?” Samael bit in harshly.

  The clerk’s face was pinched as he pointed toward the elevator. “Ten-twenty.”

  Samael turned without another word. He ignored the elevator and took the stairs, enjoying the strenuous exercise as he jogged up them. He entered on the opposite end from where he needed to be. Garbage littered the corners, rats scurried about, and a few lost souls stared his way as he made his way down. They were derelicts. Souls that had managed to claw their way up from below, but sadly would never leave District One, which was basically Hell’s version of purgatory.

  He stopped in front of the last door on the left and removed his aviators. A thin sheen of energy slithered across the entire frame. It was magick, O’Hara’s brand, no doubt. A ward of some sort.

  He heard a crash followed by a cry of rage from inside. He smiled. Nothing like a little tension and anger to feed his soul.

  Declan had obviously charmed the door so the vampire wouldn’t be able to leave. That was good, because she could royally screw things up if allowed out. His full lips thinned into a grimace. Lilith would not win.

  Could not win.

  If she managed to gather the mark of seven then all was lost. The scales would be tipped so far to the left, the right side would never be able to recover. Life as he knew it would cease to exist.

  He fucking liked things the way they were. Why else would he risk his life every day that he drew breath? Why else join with Bill and the rest?

  He stilled as his heart flushed hot with anger. That Lilith had managed to take them from his man, Janus, must still be dealt with. The soul reaper had been in charge of teens. He’d turned up dead, the children were missing, and Lilith gloated from her dungeon below.

  Someone had set her on the path to the children. Had the audacity to betray the demon of chaos. Samael clenched his hands tightly and growled. A rat scurrying at his feet bolted, startled as the sounds echoed down the hall. He snorted. They knew not what they tangled with.

  He pressed his hand against the frame and hissed as pain traveled along his arm. It was intense and left blisters in its wake. He smiled and turned away. He liked pain. It was one emotion that made him feel alive.

  The vampire would not be going anywhere. One less thing for him to worry about.

  Samael cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and was about to leave when a curse, bang, and shriek sounded once more—this time, accompanied by an incredible crash and the sound of glass breaking.

  Bloody fuck! What the hell had she done?

  He turned a thunderous eye toward the door and tweaked his shoulders once more as the tattoo along his neck shimmered.

  “Sleep, my friend. I can handle a vampire. Especially one that comes in such a small, pretty package.”

  Samael didn’t hesitate, issued nothing more than a grunt as he sent his booted foot straight through the door, splintering it in two sections. The energy that burned up his leg was fierce. He clenched his teeth and growled as he stepped through the ward, wincing slightly as the pain tripled before fading away.

  He inhaled a quick, even breath. Sex was heavy in the air, as was the scent of blood. The room was small, dingy, and save for the gaping hole in the window, there was nothing but rumpled sheets showing the evidence of O’Hara’s passion play.

  Blinds banged loudly against the window frame as the wind whistled into the room. Samael crossed to the gaping hole and looked below. He was ten stories up and though it was quite a drop, he knew it was nothing for a vampire to navigate.

  Question was . . . how the hell had she managed to break O’Hara’s charm?

  He stilled, nostrils flared, and heard the sharp pounding of feet on the cobbled streets below. She was on the run.

  Samael laughed, low vibrations falling flat as he kicked out the rest of the glass and slid his large body through the opening. He stood atop the ledge, his gaze roving over his dominion below.

  He took a step and fell into the night.

  Chapter 23

  Ana hit the ground running and didn’t stop. Her lithe body flew down the darkened streets as she navigated through a maze she swore hadn’t existed hours earlier. The wind howled in her ear and wet hair was slick against her skin. The rain was falling in sheets and she wiped excess from her eyes as she scanned the area ahead.

  Unfortunately the rain made it next to impossible to follow Declan’s scent. She would have to go deep, try a different approach. Was their bond solid enough for her to find him on a mental path?

  Ana sent out a tentative bite, careful to keep it low-key, not wanting to attract any predators. But there was no answer.

  She paused by the watchtower, surprised that she’d found her way back to pretty much where she’d started. A wave of frustrated anger swept over her and she tried to tamper the fury. When she finally got her hands on Declan O’Hara, a bunch of nasty demons were going to be the least of his worries.

  To the left was Club Doom. She glanced in that direction and took a step forward. Declan had been there for a reason. But what was it? Her eyes narrowed and she headed toward the club. The blond demon might know something. Ana’s fangs throbbed. She was in the mood to kick ass big-time.

  She’d taken only a few steps when a tingle crept up the back of her skull. Someone was there, just behind her. She cracked her fingers open slowly, though she was careful to keep them at her side. She continued along, her steps sure, measured, but all her senses were open, seeking that which stalked her.

  The mist was so thick she couldn’t see her feet and grimaced as she slid over a sticky substance. Her chest tightened, muscles bunched.

  She took another step and whirled around, a dirge of hair, nails, and fangs. Her nose immediately connected with a hard chest. She dug in, smiling as her nails cut through leather.

  But the bastard was too large, too strong, too much demon. Dark shadows erupted around them, swirling about their bodies, and she closed her eyes—it’s not like she could see anyway—and went limp.

  “What the—?” He was surprised. Good.

  She hissed and lunged forward, her claws grasping him around the shoulders as she went for the jugular. His hands twisted into her rib cage and he applied just enough pressure that she felt one of them crack.

  She knew she wasn’t strong enough to defeat him. Not physically. She let go and was thrown to the ground. The cobblestone was uneven and she landed on her side. Hard.

  Ana lay there for several seconds, her breaths falling in painful draws. Her teeth had grazed his flesh. She’d scored a drop of his blood, and it had been enough to tell her he was more powerful than she’d first thought.

  It wasn’t juiced up with the poison the lower ranks carried in their veins. It was pure, raw power.

  She turned over slowly and glared up at the demon. The fog parted just so and a sliver of light illuminated him from behind. He looked like a bloody angel.

  He grinned down at her, had the audacity to stretch out his hand as if to offer help. She tossed him an are-you-fucking-joking-me look and carefully got to her feet.

  “Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” The tall demon’s hand dropped back to his side, but she was well aware he held his arms loose, at the ready.

  “You get your kicks stalking women who are smaller than you?” She made an effort to keep her voice neutral but wasn’t so sure i
t was working. His smiled widened and she wanted nothing more than to punch the asshole. To smash his nose and mar what was without a doubt one hell of a handsome face.

  He studied her in silence and Ana tried not to panic but she knew she needed to play this cool. She couldn’t chance being outed. She needed to get to Declan.

  “We’re in District One. Anyone is fair game. You’d best learn that, newbie.”

  Fear clutched at her. Newbie. Did he know? She eyed him warily and took a step away, wincing as a shot of pain splintered across her rib cage.

  Christ, it felt like he’d broken at least two ribs. She exhaled slowly and grimaced.

  “Still”—her gaze swept the area—“there’s something sad about someone your size taking on a lady.”

  The demon stepped toward her. He was wearing large aviators and he removed them from his face. Ana kept her cool but the truth was, his freaky eyes were unnerving. Everything about him screamed Hollywood from the thick, dark hair atop his head, the classic cheekbones and cleft chin, but those eyes . . .

  He smiled, tilted his head as if they were having a Sunday afternoon conversation over coffee, and spoke. “You’re no lady.”

  She opened her mouth to retort, intent on keeping him off his game, but his body moved quickly, so fast she didn’t see it. And then he was there, so close she saw flames flickering in his eyes.

  “Can you stop that?” she ground out, surrendering to the anger inside.

  He arched an eyebrow and she saw interest. “That?” he mimicked.

  “The freaky eye thing. I don’t like it.”

  The demon laughed; a throaty chuckle that echoed into the night, bouncing off the walls until it surrounded her in a wall of sound. He leaned forward, sniffed along her neck, and twirled a finger around a long piece of her hair.

  “You are delicious. I can see why he lusts for you.”

  Ana’s eyes narrowed and she took a step back. And then another until she had some space between them. “Who the hell are you?”

  He watched her closely, the smile never leaving his face. “Ana, I’m disappointed you don’t recognize me. Though, sadly, any renderings I’ve seen of myself in the human realm are less than flattering.”

  Ana’s eyes widened. She noticed the vibrant tattoo along the side of his neck. It was a dragon. She didn’t need to hear anymore. “Samael.”

  “Beauty, brains, and apparently strong enough to break through powerful wards put in place by your boyfriend.” Samael’s smile vanished. “Which, I feel the need to point out, wasn’t a very smart thing to do.”

  Ana watched the powerful demon warily as he paced a bit, though his eyes never left her.

  “You’ve created a problem for me.” Samael shook his head. “I don’t like problems.”

  “I’m not leaving until I find Declan.”

  “You should not have come here.” He glared at her, his jaw tight. Shit. He was pissed.

  “I shouldn’t do a lot of things.” She shrugged. “It’s part of my charm.” Ana knew she sounded flippant, but her mind was racing, searching for a way out. She decided the direct approach might work best. Declan had indicated Samael had given him a serum, something to help him blend in. It was obvious the demon was helping him in some way.

  “What’s your part in all of this?”

  His hand was at her throat before she could blink and he lifted her into the air, slammed her back against the wall. She grunted at the force of the hit, ignoring the pain in her side as she struggled to breathe.

  Desperately she tried to free herself but ceased her efforts after a few seconds. It was no use. He was much too strong.

  “You will leave here or you will die.” He spit the words at her and let her fall to the ground.

  She was up in an instant, hissing and baring her fangs. Ana was livid. She was sick of men—be they demon, sorcerer, or fucking Seraph—charting her path. A crackle of energy teased the edges of her fingers.

  Did she have enough mojo left? Was there only a limited supply?

  Declan’s blood had provided an added boost, a bit of magick she’d not expected. She didn’t know the why or how of it, and didn’t care, but she’d used it to escape the hotel room, successfully blasting through the charmed window.

  Samael’s grimace softened. He studied her, an unreadable expression on his face. “You would still challenge me?”

  “Time’s running out. I need to get to Declan. Can you help me or not?” Ana threw the question out there. What did she have to lose? “He has a much better chance of getting those kids out with my help.”

  She watched his face darken, refused to budge when he took the last few steps toward her.

  His nostrils flared once more and he leaned down. “You drank from him.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She nodded. “He forced me to. Said his blood would mask my scent.” She glared up at him. “Said you supplied the serum.”

  Samael’s eyes narrowed, though he remained silent.

  “I have no clue what your involvement is and honestly don’t give a shit as to your reasons. If you know where Declan is, share now or get the fuck out of my way.”

  “What would you do, what deal would you sign, in order to get what you want?”

  Ana swallowed carefully. What the hell was he getting at?

  “I don’t want to play games, demon. I’d do anything.” A lump of dread rolled over in her belly and she hitched her breath.

  For Declan, she’d sell her soul.

  The heat of his breath touched her skin and she tried not to grimace, though the distaste she felt was more than apparent. She’d never been this close to a demon before. Their energy was intense, but tainted with such darkness that it made her nauseous.

  “Good to know,” he whispered, “because where you’re going you might very well have to sign your pretty little ass over to the queen bitch of Hell.”

  “Lilith,” she whispered.

  Samael nodded. “She has a hard-on for your boy. She won’t play nice with anyone she sees as a threat.”

  Ana bit her lip. “What do you mean?”

  Samael pushed away from her, turned, and walked for a bit. “He’s not shared his time in Hell?”

  “No.” Ana stared at him, wishing the unease that filled her would go away. She thought of the scars that adorned Declan’s chest. Of the pain that sat in his eyes when he thought no one would notice.

  “It’s not my place to spill another’s secrets.” Samael turned to her, his fingers crooked as he gestured for her to come to him. Slowly she took the steps needed until she was inches from the demon. “You are brave, I’ll give you that. Most would run, hide from me.”

  “Most don’t have something worth losing.”

  He placed his hands upon her shoulders and stared directly into her eyes. When he spoke, his lips didn’t move, though his words echoed inside her head.

  I know you’ve pledged your allegiance to Askelon, whom you know as Bill. It is for that reason only I’ve not ended your life. You will not mention my name to anyone, or my affiliation to your sorcerer. If you do I will end you. I’ve no problem doing with that. Understand?

  Ana nodded, her mouth dry. His words were direct, cold, and there was no doubt he meant them.

  The sorcerer is on his way to a demon, Seth. This demon hates Lilith more than anyone, save perhaps for your man O’Hara. I will get you there, but be warned, you’re on your own.

  A flash of light had her wincing as a rush of wind ripped through her hair, and a roaring in her ears left her off balance. Ana staggered back and when the world righted, when everything stopped spinning, she stilled.

  It was like she’d been dropped into the middle of the Sahara except there was no sunshine, only the eternal fog. It slid between huge sand dunes that surrounded her. The air was dry, biting, as it caressed her skin.

  Her hand clutched a large, serrated dagger. She stared at it in confusion.

  Howls erupted to her left, the kind that signale
d something new stalking the night. It was familiar. Ana crouched low, her eyes scanning for a way out. She knew what was out there amongst the shadows.

  Hellhounds. She smiled, a harsh slash of white in the gloom. Guess Samael wasn’t such a bastard after all. He’d plunked her down in the middle of a rabid pack of dogs, yet he’d supplied her with a weapon.

  A real gentleman.

  Growls, moans, and howls lit up the night. Ana had no choice and took off running, desperately trying to seek cover. Her boots sank in the sand and she found it hard to keep her balance. She scrambled up a large dune, crested it, and fell head over heels all the way down the other side.

  Jesus fuck! She spit dirt from her mouth but was up and running. The damn things could be heard, their stench rose into the air but she couldn’t see them.

  Yet.

  She slid between two large dunes, the long mounds giving some sort of cover from the endless wind and sand. Her chest was heaving, her mind on red alert. A whisper of energy caught her attention. Shadows moved along the edge of the dunes but she was afraid to venture deeper into the crevice for fear she’d become trapped.

  Ana cracked her neck, welcomed the rush of adrenaline that slid through her veins. She was gonna need a shitload of it, too. It sounded like she was surrounded by more than a just few of the bastards. Her fangs hung, ready for attack, and she held herself as loose as she could, considering her feet kept sinking into the soft sand.

  A howl rent the night and her hair stood on end as a cacophony of growls accompanied it. Heavy breathing blew down the pike and she wrinkled her nose as the otherworld stench of the hellhounds came with it.

  “Bring it on,” she whispered. She shook out her fingers but luck was not hanging with her this night. Any extra mojo she’d ingested from Declan was long gone. There wasn’t even a tingle.

  She held her breath as everything faded away and when several sets of fiery eyes appeared, all emotion fled.

  She needed to survive this. She would survive.

  The beasts were impressive in height. Tall, shaggy things with powerful jaws that held several rows of serrated teeth. She glanced down at the dagger in her hand. Somehow it didn’t seem fair.