Wrong Side of Hell Read online

  For a second her vision blurred and she stumbled. She blinked and shook her head as the odd feeling persisted, but when she was able to focus there was no one there.

  What the hell?

  “Would you like a drink?” The musical sound of the old woman’s voice drew Kira’s attention and she quickly crossed the street, though she paused and hazarded a glance back. Just to be sure.

  “Did you see them?” Kira’s hand went to her throat in surprise. There was no rasp, no weakness from an ill-used voice box. She sounded strong, if a little unsure.

  The woman stirred a large, colorful drink inside a glass so cold moisture collected along its sides and ran down in small rivulets. She shrugged. “There are a lot of souls here. Some I see,” she glanced up at Kira and winked, “and some I don’t.” She handed the magenta-colored drink to Kira. “You, I see.”

  Kira accepted the glass, though she wasn’t quite sure she should drink it.

  “Go ahead.” The kind eyes stared up at her. “Drink. It will make things clearer.”

  At the woman’s urging, Kira took a long draw of the cool liquid. Tangy and sweet at the same time, she gulped it down, smiling and more than a little embarrassed as she wiped a drop from the corner of her mouth.

  “Sorry, I’m so thirsty all of a sudden.” She arched a brow. “Can I have a bit more?”

  The woman shook her head. “Sorry. I can only give you one drink.”

  “Oh,” Kira murmured, her cheeks darkening as an awkward silence fell between them. “I’m . . .” A wave of thirst rolled over her. “I’m just so thirsty.”

  The woman nodded. “Most are when they first arrive. The drink will help.”

  “Arrive?” Something pricked along the edge of her mind. A memory. A dark one that came with cold and fear and pain. She pushed it away. She didn’t want to remember.

  “I’ve not seen you before. You’re new.” The woman clucked like she was talking to a child, and Kira blushed.

  “I’m sorry if I seem to be a bit confused. What’s your name?” Kira asked.

  The woman opened her mouth and then closed it, her eyebrows knit in concentration. She stared up at Kira for so long that Kira began to feel uncomfortable.

  Then she smiled widely and nodded. “Catherine.”

  “Oh,” Kira felt her heart lurch. Catherine had been her nana’s name, though her nana had insisted she call her—

  “You can call me Cat.”

  Cat. Kira’s eyes narrowed and she took a step backward. This was too much of a coincidence.

  She studied the small woman who stood in silence with a wide smile plastered to her face. Something was way off. She bit her lip nervously and looked around, thinking she’d been a fool to accept a drink from the woman.

  “Where am I?” she asked, heart beating heavy and voice strained.

  Catherine—Cat—smiled and crooked her head to the side. “Why, my dear, you’re where you’re supposed to be . . . for the moment.”

  “But where is that, exactly?” It was hard for Kira to keep the frustration from her voice as she glanced around. Palm trees wavered along the edge of the market, their leaves brushing the tops of the stalls, their stems whispering in the breeze. Had they been there before?

  “It’s where you need to be.”

  The woman was talking in circles. Kira ran fingers through the long hair at her neck and then paused, her hands in the air. The marks were gone. All of them.

  She turned both of her wrists over and swallowed as her stomach roiled. Shame darkened her cheeks as the image of her scars flashed before her eyes. They were reminders of her pain and weakness.

  And they were no more.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered.

  Why was she missing a huge chunk of time? Why was she not back at the Institute? Her eyebrows knit together and she shook her head. The last thing she remembered was . . . Mergerone and the two new orderlies coming into her room.

  Kira’s heart thudded heavily and a wave of heat suffused her cheeks. Her chest was tight and it was hard to breathe. She looked at Catherine and opened her mouth to speak, but something shifted then and she froze.

  A trace of energy rippled through the market, touching everything and electrifying the air. The sky darkened and the sun that she’d dreamt about for so long disappeared behind dark, thunderous clouds.

  “I don’t understand.” Fear clogged her throat and she was barely able to get the words out.

  The woman moved forward, her frail body quick, preternatural. Her gnarled hands ensconced Kira’s tight within her grasp. “Your memories will come back. It’s different with everyone.” The old woman’s hand was on her cheek, the touch light. “The drink will help.”

  A frown crossed Catherine’s face as her gaze drifted behind Kira. Something flickered behind their glittery depths. She murmured something in a language that Kira didn’t understand and then grasped both of her wrists tightly, her eyes intense as she looked up at Kira.

  “They are not supposed to be here.”

  “Who?” Kira whirled around but all she saw were the same tourists milling about. A flash of blond caught her eye and for a second she thought she saw the little boy from moments earlier, but then he was gone.

  “Kira.”

  She turned back to the old woman. “You need to follow the light.” Catherine pointed behind her. “Understand?”

  Hell, no. I think you’re crazier than I am.

  “I don’t . . .” Kira shook her head helplessly.

  “You need to go now.” Catherine’s voice changed and Kira jerked her head up. Cat nodded. “Now.” She nodded behind her. “Toward the light.”

  Kira took a few steps past the old woman, but paused as thunder joined the lightning now crossing the sky. The tourists walked about the market as if unaware that everything had changed. They laughed among themselves, hands reaching for fantastic bargains as they chatted animatedly.

  For the first time she noticed that not everyone was dressed the same. Some wore clothes that looked to be from centuries ago—velvet and silk ball gowns, top hats, and powdered wigs. There was a woman dressed smartly in a simple dress cut to just above the knee and a royal blue pin hat. At her throat was a thick strand of pearls, and white kid gloves adorned her hands. She looked like she was from the 1960s. None of this made sense.

  Kira blinked rapidly. Now that she’d taken a moment to look closer, some of the tourists didn’t even look human.

  Where the hell did that thought come from?

  She turned around and a chill rolled over her. Two shadowy figures stood at the edge of the square. They were tall, well over six feet in height, with wide shoulders and powerful arms. They were dressed in long robes that billowed around their feet, dancing in a breeze that seemed not to touch anyone else.

  Their faces weren’t clear and in fact the hoods they wore seemed to hide nothing but dark space. They moved forward slowly, their heads turning in unison as if an invisible rope tethered them together. As they perused the market, something about the way they moved sent panic crashing through Kira.

  They were unnatural. Just like the monster from her childhood. A flash of fur and fangs and the sensation of heat erupted in her mind.

  Their feet didn’t touch the ground, and the air shimmered around them as they started toward the market.

  And yet, no one seemed to notice them. A young woman jogged in place as she reached for a basket of fruit, her caramel-blond hair held in place by a bright pink band. An elderly man shuffled along slowly, his cane tapping the cobblestone at his feet as he sang a strange tune. The dog reappeared once more, its yipping accelerated as it dove into the crowd.

  In that moment everything expanded and then constricted into a tight beam of energy. The world was off-kilter and Kira had no idea what the hell was going on.

  “Go, now.” Catherine’s voice was urgent and this time Kira didn’t hesitate.

  Follow the light.

  Kira kept her head down and ra
n toward an alley just behind Catherine’s market stall. She slipped between the walls and paused, glancing back toward the square once she was hidden in the shadows.

  Something thick and dull pounded against her skull and her gut churned in fear. Confusion didn’t even come close to describing the images that haunted her head. The things that had driven her mad years before rose to the surface and Kira backed away as the two shadows converged at the end of the alley.

  They effectively cut off any means of escape, and for a second Kira struggled to see past the darkness that seeped from beneath their robes, pouring out like thick billowing clouds of smoke. She tried to speak but her vocal cords froze, and her hands clenched so tightly she drew blood.

  The specter on the left made a screeching noise and pointed its arm toward her. “You.” Its disembodied voice cut through her brain. It hurt.

  She jumped as a growl erupted behind her. Kira whirled around and her fist flew to her mouth as she tried to squelch the scream that caught at the back of her throat.

  A man stood, his tall length cloaked in shadow, though his eyes burned through the darkness, a fierce red that cut through the gloom.

  She knew those eyes. She knew them well. They belonged to her savior—or at least that’s what she called him. How many nights had she dreamed of him? Of seeing him again? Of touching him? Of losing herself in his embrace?

  As a child he’d been nothing more than a memory to cling to. Something that was real in a world of chaos and pain. Yet as she grew older, stuck in the hellhole that was the Institute, the way she thought of him had changed.

  When her world had spiraled out of control it was him she’d turned to. Her angel. Her savior. Mergerone had come for her again and again, drugging her, hurting her . . . touching her . . . and it was the stranger and his strength that had gotten her through.

  Oh my God. It was all real. What the doctors called delusions were in fact real. She wasn’t crazy.

  A tremulous smile claimed her lips, but faded just as quickly because she knew that if he was back, then maybe the beast wasn’t far behind.

  Kira Dove had slipped down a rabbit hole fifteen years ago and it seemed as if the ghosts that haunted her head had found her once more.

  No longer were they spectral nightmares that kept her awake. They were real.

  And they were coming for her.

  Chapter Four

  KIRA UNCLENCHED HER hands and forced the tense muscles that stretched across her shoulders to relax. She needed her head clear and her body loose, ready to fight.

  There was a certain amount of anticipation tingling along her nerves that made her jumpy. She’d be a fool not to recognize what the adrenaline pumping through her veins meant.

  She’d somehow always known that the events of that long-ago night had been real. They’d not been the imaginings of a girl gone crazy.

  That’s what had driven her to the brink so many times. It’s what fueled her suicide attempts. As much as the memory of the beast had pushed her to train and prepare to fight, it had also fed the fear inside of her. And that’s what had almost made her as crazy as everyone thought she was.

  Kira tore her eyes from the nameless man and whirled back toward the two specters, a smile widening her face. To have proof—absolute knowledge that she’d been right—was enough. The mad ramblings of doomsday and fire and Armageddon had been bang-on. It brought some small sliver of peace.

  Even now the pain and frustration she’d felt at the poorly hidden disappointment and denial in her parents’ eyes hit her hard in the gut. They wouldn’t listen to anyone—not even her beloved nana, Catherine.

  They’d called in all sorts of specialists, the best that money could buy, from every corner of the globe, and pummeled them with questions. What’s wrong with her? Will she be normal again? Is she crazy?

  Their answers had been as varied as the doctors. She’s delusional. She’s psychotic. She’s dangerous.

  After six months of trying to fix their now-broken child, Andre and Miriam Dove had tossed her aside and left her to rot in the Institute. They’d come to visit at first, but after months of no improvement the visits had dwindled and eventually stopped. Her nana had never been allowed to visit.

  Every birthday from her eleventh on had been spent in that hellhole. No longer was Kira the perfect blending of the Doves’ fabulous genes. She was damaged. Deranged.

  Yet she was stronger than any of them. Not once had she accepted the diagnosis—even as young as she was. The doctors had tried all sorts of “therapies” to get through to her. Some were passive but most involved some sort of pain.

  When she was nineteen, a new specialist arrived at the Institute—one who seemed invested in her case. Dr. Mergerone had been inventive and took perverse pleasure in “treating” her.

  Kira had never given in. She’d known her savior was real.

  The beast existed.

  She’d known the beast would return for her—she’d seen him in dreams, among other things. Kira knew bad tidings were coming as surely as she knew the sun would rise each day. They’d hidden inside shadows that twisted in the corners and fell to her ears as whispers in the night. Images of destruction and pain had haunted her every night for as long as she had memory.

  Sometimes it had been too much and she’d retreated deep into her mind, her physical body in a catatonic state as she grappled with what she saw. Her savior. The beast. A child.

  And now, for the first time in years, the fog had lifted. All those moments of clarity—when she’d trained hard, pushed her body until collapse—had been important. She needed to be strong.

  She had to survive.

  One of the specters spoke, a high-pitched sound as piercing as a thousand cicadas singing off key. The words made no sense and she struggled to understand even as she wanted to cover her ears and hide.

  “I want you the hell out of here, now.”

  Kira’s heart nearly fell from her chest as she jerked to the left. He was there. The savior. Inches away.

  “I won’t. I can’t leave you.” How could she? She would fight by his side. It’s what she’d trained for.

  His eyes no longer burned red and the shadows melted away, giving her a glimpse of his face.

  In all her imaginings, both as a young girl and later as a woman, she’d never seen his face. It had always been the eyes—those blood-red eyes—that had burned within her memories.

  And oh, what she’d been missing.

  He was breathtaking. He was hard and masculine and wild and big. He was the tallest man she’d ever seen in person, easily topping six feet by several inches. Dressed in black denim and a tight-fitting black t-shirt, he presented an intimidating figure. His jaw was shadowed in several days of scruff, and thick, black hair waved down to his collar.

  He had strong cheekbones and a nose that was slightly imperfect—as if it had been broken at least once. Or twice. His lips were full and for a second her eyes lingered there.

  He scowled and hissed loudly, taking two steps forward until he was abreast of her.

  “I wasn’t asking. Unless you want your ass kicked but good, you need to leave.”

  Too bad his attitude sucked.

  “Says who?” Anger flashed inside Kira, the kind that burned as it went down.

  He looked surprised at her retort and his lips tightened in anger.

  She glanced back toward the two robed figures. They floated several inches off the ground and their robes billowed out even farther, the silky ends widening until they touched either side of the alley’s muted orange brick walls. Dark, smoky mist continued to slither from beneath their robes, and newly discernible shapes moved among the murky fog.

  There was no rational explanation for what she was seeing, and yet, she accepted it.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She stood with her legs spread, balancing on the balls of her feet as she squared her shoulders. For the first time in forever, she felt like she was standing at the helm of the ship that was
her life. She could steer it. She was strong enough.

  “You can’t fight them on your own.” She gestured toward the robed figures. “You need me.”

  He laughed—which pissed her off. “Do I look like I need your help?”

  Really? He was going to pick a fight now?

  “You look like an arrogant son of a bitch, if you want the truth.” She arched a brow. “Who the hell are you, anyway? Should I just call you ‘caveman’? You have a Neanderthal complex or what?”

  She almost cracked a smile at the thunderous look that crossed his face.

  “I don’t have time for this,” he hissed, and leaned closer. “Leave now or else.”

  She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. The man was hard-edged, arrogant, and very, very pissed off.

  But so was Kira. She was sick and tired of living in the shadows. Of cowering in fear and hiding from the unknown.

  “Or else what?” She was strangely exhilarated.

  For a moment they stared at each other—David against Goliath—and then a screech erupted, one that shattered the moment like a hammer smashing against stone.

  Kira tore her eyes from his and glanced toward the entrance to the alley. The shapes beneath the specters’ robes rose up, long plumes of smoke that twisted faster and faster still, until they solidified into creatures that she’d never seen before. Not even in her nightmares.

  There were six in total—tall, thin, hulking things with arms that bounced in front of them as if tethered from above by a puppeteer. They were as faceless as the creatures that had born them, but fire flashed from where eyes should be and large gaping holes appeared as they screeched once more.

  Maggots surged from their mouths, twisting, turning, and falling to the ground as the smoke monsters moved forward en masse. The squirming maggots began to multiply when they hit the ground, and soon there was a teeming mass of hundreds, if not thousands of the slimy things.

  Her belly roiled at the sight.

  Caveman stepped in front of her, a snarl falling from his lips as he shoved her aside. “For fuck’s sake, why won’t you listen to me? This isn’t a game.”