Wicked Road to Hell Read online

  The covers were rumpled and the smell of sex permeated everything. Ana made a face and turned away but not before an image of Declan, naked on the sheets, assaulted her.

  Declan was staring at her, his expression unreadable. Something flickered in his eyes, a flash of pain? Regret?

  She opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. There, behind Declan, was a man chained to the wall. He was unconscious but his bindings kept him upright. She sniffed. He was human, tall, and from what Ana could see, Hollywood handsome. He looked vaguely familiar. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was.

  Jack something or other, an actor who’d died several months earlier. A result of too much partying and too many illicits.

  What a waste.

  He was naked; his torso was covered in a series of marks that were red and raw. She saw more of them along his inner thigh.

  “What are those wounds?” She watched Declan closely. He paused before answering and she knew he was uncomfortable.

  “Lilith is a succubus. She feeds her power through sex.” He nodded toward the unconscious man. “Those would be teeth marks.”

  Ana’s gaze fell once more to the actor. “I bet he never thought this is what his end would be,” she murmured.

  Declan scooped up a large dagger that had been lying on the floor. It was stained crimson. He stared at it for a moment and then tossed it to Ana. She grabbed it, held it tight. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the putrid scent of stale blood.

  Declan shrugged. “He made his bed, now he’ll be lying in Lilith’s until she grows tired of him and moves on.” His eyes narrowed. “Everyone down here has a touch of darkness in them, Ana. Don’t feel sorry for them.” He nodded toward the human. “That is no innocent, but a man who was weak and danced on the dark side. He lost and now he’s Lilith’s bitch.”

  She knew he was right, but it didn’t negate the sadness of the situation. Her mind was asking questions, things about Declan’s stay that she had no right to ask.

  But she had to wonder. Had her lover suffered like the human chained to the wall? She thought of the scars that adorned his chest.

  I caught her eye.

  His words echoed in her brain and she took a step forward, hand outstretched.

  “No,” he said softly. “I can’t go there.”

  Ana pulled back. “Okay. Let’s get the children.” She glanced around the large room, her gaze shifting past the gaudy furniture, the reams of clothes that adorned the floor.

  Beside the bed was a table, and once again the remnants of rotting food were present, along with several bottles of wine and a plate of sweets. The flies were thick, their buzzing the only thing she heard past the beating of her heart.

  “Where are they?” she asked, tearing her gaze away.

  Declan answered, the sound muffled, “In here.”

  She found him inside a walk-in closet that was the size of the entire main floor of her house in New Orleans. Again it was a disaster. Clothes were strewn everywhere, as were jewelry, shoes, and expensive bags of every brand known to man.

  “You think she’d employ a maid,” Ana mumbled.

  Declan stood before a nondescript door. It was between two large armoires.

  His fists were slowly unclenching, long fingers stretching out before tightening up once again. Ana slid beside him and grabbed his hand into hers. She looked up at Declan, saw the pain though he tried to hide it, and she held his wrist against her cheek.

  She didn’t say anything. It was enough to just be with him.

  He gently extracted his hand from hers. It was time.

  Declan’s face was grim. “Our objective is to get the kids out safely.” He arched a brow. “Understand?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll get us in. They’ll be on the left side of the room—bound, of course—but you should have no problem setting them free. There will be a hellhound or two. Do you think you can handle them?”

  And held the deadly dagger he’d given her loosely in her hands and smiled. “I don’t think I’ll have a problem.”

  “Good. Concentrate on the kids and leave the others to me.”

  “The others?”

  Declan shook his head. “Don’t ask and don’t look at them. They make those maggot-infested shitheads look like playthings.” He glanced at his timepiece. “We have exactly one hour to get back to the platform or we’re on fucking vacation in the land of the lost.”

  Adrenaline pumped through her. Ana cracked her neck. She was ready. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  “One more thing . . .” She looked at him questioningly and stilled as his lips descended to brush over hers with a whisper of heat.

  “Be safe, and when I say run, you run, got it? Do not hesitate. Get those kids out and into the forest.” He opened his hand and she stared at a glimmering ball of energy. “Take this.”

  It was hot in her palm and quickly hardened into a solid mass. “What is it?”

  “If something happens, if we get separated, use this to open the black shield at the end of the forest where we came in. You’ll have to retrace your steps to get back to the platform.” He paused. “Succubus Blues has a direct portal to the platform. It’s on the upper level.”

  She shook her head, opened her mouth, but Declan gave her no time to speak. His eyes were intense. “There’s nothing to say. The situation is what it is. I need to know if you’ll get them out, back to Succubus Blues without me if need be. That’s why we’re here.”

  She nodded as Declan stepped back. He could believe what he wanted. There was no way she would leave him behind.

  “Ready?”

  Ana stared at the door. She let out a breath, centered herself, and prepared to fight.

  Chapter 29

  The memories inside Declan’s head sickened him. He wanted to close his eyes and push them away. He wanted to hang his head in shame.

  Instead he focused and took all the pain, hatred, and fear inside his soul and fed on the darkness that accompanied them. It was powerful shit and at the moment he’d tap into anything he could find.

  Declan glanced at Ana. His love for her was also full of a power he could tap into and use.

  It gathered in his gut and he held his hands outward, palms up, as the energy inside him burned and pulsed. It traveled through his veins, firing his cells and infusing them with his powerful essence.

  His senses were in hyper mode. Since he’d taken from Ana, fed from her, everything was much more vibrant, clear, and his nostrils twitched as the scents that surrounded him settled in his chest.

  He stared at the door in front of him and had a moment when everything faded away, like a wall of reality had been peeled back. He heard the breaths falling from his chest, the flies buzzing madly around the food and the screams.

  They filled his head, gaining strength as they ripped along his skull. How many had he watched suffer at her hands? How many times had he participated in their torture?

  Anguish sat in him. It was heavy but he ignored it and instead focused on the absolute hatred he felt for Lilith. It was potent—exactly what he needed to fuel his magick.

  He touched the handle and winced as a bolt of energy shot up his hand. Lilith’s wards were strong but not nearly strong enough to keep him out. He smiled.

  Dumb, arrogant bitch.

  Declan whispered ancient words, powerful words, while his fingers wove a tapestry of magick in the air. They were beautiful, luminescent patterns that shimmered for several seconds before disappearing. As his hands worked faster, his breaths increased, his heart beat madly in anticipation.

  His fangs broke skin.

  He smiled as Lilith’s protection wards started to crack, and when he felt them crumble he looked to Ana. She stared up at him and he was humbled that she was willing to risk her life for him.

  “Let’s do this,” she whispered. He saw the tips of her fangs, white against the red of her lips, and his heart ached. Ana DeLacrux was his and he would do whatever it took
to claim their destiny.

  He just needed to take care of a few things first.

  He blew out a hot breath and flexed his fingers. They were ready.

  “You get to those kids and let me deal with the others. If all goes well we’ll make it out at the same time. If not . . .” He shook his head as his words drifted into silence.

  Her eyes shone something fierce and a blush rose in her pale cheeks. “I’ll get them to safety, but I’m telling you right now if you don’t get your ass out, I will come back for you.”

  A spark of anger touched him and Declan frowned. “You will do no such thing.”

  She rolled her shoulders and tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “First of all, you’re not the boss of me.” She glanced up at him, and unease rifled through Declan. The look on her face was one he was familiar with. He didn’t like it. It usually meant the shit was about to—

  “And secondly, I’m sick of this place. It’s dirty, cold, full of creeps, and I need a bath. A long, hot soak in the tub. So I suggest you”—her booted foot shot out and splintered the door in two—“get your ass in gear ’cause I’m done talking.”

  Son of a bitch!

  The door was now on its hinges and she was through it before he had a chance to react.

  “If you’re a good boy I’ll let you join me.” Her words drifted back to him and galvanized him into action.

  Declan jumped through, his hands loose and ready, his fingertips sizzling as his magick burned hot.

  He was hit with a wall of cold, his nostrils tightening in reaction as he exhaled. The smell of fear, pain, and suffering was tenfold. Fog slithered along the floor, licking his legs as he stood, gathering his bearings. It was the same as he remembered. A large, cavernlike space, with cold, wet stone walls that jutted up nearly twenty feet.

  Water dripped constantly, the sound of it echoing into the silence—which was thick, solid, and eerie.

  The entire room was a wash of gray. There was no color, no life—only a dull palette of pain.

  Images, scenes from his past, played out in front of him, and Declan had to blink his eyes in an effort to banish them. Yet he could taste it, feel it in his mind, and the intensity of them hit hard.

  Long blond hair, limbs entwined around his own—blood—there was always so much blood. Screams and the echoes of long-ago sins.

  “Declan!”

  He shook his head and stared down into the face of the one woman who could save him.

  “Let’s do this. You and I. Don’t let the ghosts overshadow you.”

  Swiftly his lips grazed hers, his tongue passing over her mouth, infusing her body with a hot zap of energy. Her eyes widened, their liquid depths glistening, and she smiled.

  “I love you,” she whispered, and turned away, disappearing into the swirling fog.

  Hissing noises intruded on the moment and Declan squared his shoulders, his arms flung wide as he turned to face Lilith’s pets. A savage smile tore at his mouth and he moved forward with purpose. He was no longer a weak, castrated man, but a sorcerer filled with power, infused with the strength of a vampire.

  “Come on, you slimy bastards.” His eyes carefully scanned the room. “Let’s have at it.”

  The tallest one appeared first, his massive frame emerging from the mist in a lazy I-don’t-give-a-fuck kind of way. The creature was well over eight feet in height, humanoid in looks except for the fact that its skin was hard-shelled scales that shone an iridescent blue.

  And it had two heads.

  Two sets of eyes were trained on him, both glowing crimson as two long, forked tongues flickered out into the air, testing the vibrations that hung there. He knew the demon couldn’t see all that well, but its sense of smell was powerful.

  The mouths opened and spoke in unison. “We are surprised you’ve returned.” A hiss escaped, like air leaving a balloon. “We look forward to imparting much pain. The queen will be pleased.”

  Declan was light on his feet as he moved to the right. “I see you boys still talk like E.T.” He flashed a smile. “Want some Reese’s Pieces?” His smile turned dark and he snarled, “Or would you prefer I send your fucking ass home?”

  The tall creature hissed loudly and rushed him, its long arms outstretched, the claws deadly sharp. They could cut out his entrails in one swipe. He’d seen it up close and personal on several occasions.

  Declan ran toward the beast, his hand outstretched, and blasted as much energy as he could, aiming dead center for its chest. He managed to knock the bastard off its feet, but wasn’t certain if it was from the strength of his hit or the fact he’d surprised the crap out of him. Of course the demon would assume he was still powerless.

  An agonized roar fell from its lips and it flailed madly in an effort to gain its footing. The beast was massive, clumsy. Declan leapt over it, barely managing to avoid a swipe of its claws, when a shadow moved to his left and caught his eye.

  Declan tucked his body into a roll and hit the stone floor hard, yet still the heat of a bullet cut through the air where his body had just been. He called the shadows to his form, knowing it wasn’t foolproof.

  He moved with stealth, tapping into the preternatural speed he wasn’t yet used to. In less time than it took to blink, he was behind the second creature. This one was demon, not nearly as large or as fierce as the two-headed bastard on the floor.

  Declan’s hands went around its neck in one swift move and he snapped it, then threw the demon to the floor. He needed to move quickly. Nothing died down here and he knew it would be on its feet in no time. Its neck would still be broken, bent at an unnatural angle, but it would be mobile, therefore dangerous.

  He grabbed the weapon from its hands and stalked over to the two-headed creature. It was up, both heads frothing at the mouth, spittle flying in all directions.

  “We will kill you,” it shouted like a petulant child, its body trembling with anger.

  Declan shook his head. “You could try, douche bags, but the only one who can do the killing would be your queen, and she’s busy having sex with a goat in the garden.”

  The creature bellowed in rage. “Do not speak of her.” It rushed him, a blur of madness. Declan aimed his weapon and fired off two shots in rapid succession, planting two bullets right where they mattered most, between the beast’s eyes.

  It kept on, but he held out his hand and as the creature began to wobble, Declan’s magick held it aloft. He increased his hold and watched as the creature trembled and struggled to breathe. Shock and surprise appeared within the depths of its eyes.

  “Not so much fun when the playing field is even,” Declan growled.

  “We will kill you.” It managed to squeeze the words out though they were weak.

  Declan snorted. “I don’t think so, ass wipe.” He turned, smiling as he heard it fall to the ground. He had mere minutes before it, too, would be up and about, gunning for his ass. He heaved the weapon over his shoulder and slid deeper into the fog.

  The enemy he sought was still here, hiding from him. Other than Lilith, this was the one piece-of-shit entity he dreamed of nightly. Was it man or woman? He had no clue. The bastard changed skins as easily as a snake.

  Declan had no more time to play games. He snarled into the gray mist. “Show yourself, dickhead. I know you’re here.”

  A tingle of energy slithered along his skin and then the air rippled, creating a swirl of mist that evaporated into nothing. A space opened up, like a black hole, and a shape materialized.

  He saw a face he’d thought never to look upon again, but really, should he be surprised?

  Father.

  Declan stared into the cold, dark eyes of Cormac O’Hara and smiled as the energy inside him stirred hot.

  Was it really his father? Or the skin shifter demon he’d come to know so well during his stay here? Did it matter?

  The familiar face cracked as a stiff smile swept over his features. He saw the nostrils flare as he gazed behind Declan. White teeth showed brigh
tly as he smiled in wonder. They were serrated. It was definitely not his father, but he’d play along.

  “I smell Ana DeLacrux. I thought I nailed that bitch cold. How in the hell did your vampire come back from the dead?”

  Declan glared at him, his face darkened with anger. He knew the skin shifter showed itself in any form it thought would bring mental pain. Hell, how many times had it appeared as Ana? How many times had he been forced to watch the woman he loved engage in all sorts of sordid acts?

  “This must be my lucky day,” Declan said, his voice deadly as a sneer lifted the corners of his mouth. His father held no sway where he was concerned.

  Cormac O’Hara’s frosty eyes narrowed into twin slits of blackness. “How so?” the shifter asked, his voice silky smooth.

  Declan took a step forward and glowered. “Because I get to kick my father’s ass again and then I’ll have the pleasure of blasting him into tiny little pieces.” He flexed his fingers and growled, “Again.”

  “Come now. Is that any way to speak to dear old dad? The man responsible for giving you life?” The skin shifter’s eyes narrowed. “For giving you power?”

  Declan snarled. “He was nothing more than a sperm donor.”

  “His blood flows inside you and that is not something you can deny.”

  Declan watched as the shifter moved toward him. He waited, held his power tight. He needed the right moment.

  The fog continued to swirl, faster and thicker. Declan heard a groan behind him, followed by a bellow of pain. He knew he had to act quickly.

  “You think to steal the two marks from the queen?” The skin shifter’s voice was low, neutral, yet Declan sensed the anger that simmered below the surface.

  He shrugged. “They don’t belong to her.”

  “You arrogant piece of shit,” he spat, and then lunged.

  Declan was ready. He blasted an energy shot into the floor, using the force of it to propel himself up and over the shifter. He landed behind him, hard, and grunted from the force of it as he rolled to the side and was on his feet in a second.

  With his right hand he drew a charm in the air and with his left he shot another energy bolt directly at the shifter’s chest. The eyes, so like his father’s, blazed with a blackness that glittered like diamonds.