Wicked Road to Hell Read online

  Ana hesitated and then plunged forward. Some secret corner of her heart was relieved to be able to share. “Declan and I are joined now. We’ve bonded and there’s no turning back.” She swallowed and exhaled a shaky breath. “But there’s consequence. In my world, we’re not allowed to make vampires. It’s forbidden. If it happens”—she glanced down at the now-silent Asher—“council will destroy the fledgling and banish said maker, to wherever. If said vampire is lucky enough to escape with their life.”

  “But he is Seraph, one of their soldiers. That has to count for something.”

  She shook her head. “My queen’s rules are absolute. They will hunt Declan when they find out.”

  “If that’s true, how will this demon be able to help you?”

  “Seth wants something they have. He says if I get it for him, he’ll use an outstanding favor and guarantee Declan’s safety.”

  “And you believe him.”

  “Like I said, there was no choice.” Her eyes were beseeching. “It’s late and I need to do this.”

  “And Declan’s okay with this.”

  Her cheeks darkened and Ransome took a step forward. “What have you done to him?”

  “He doesn’t know. I left him in a weakened state, but he’ll be fine when he awakens.” Her lips tightened. “He can’t know. If he goes anywhere near them, they’ll kill him without question. These are ancients. Their powers are fierce and their loyalty to the queen unbreakable.”

  Ransome grabbed his leather jacket from the hanger near his door. “Let’s go.”

  Ana shook her head. “No.”

  Ransome ignored her and opened the door. He glanced over to Asher and growled, “When I return I want your ass gone from New Orleans, or better yet, get the fuck out of Louisiana. Because I will kill you. That, my friend, is a bona fide LaPierre promise.”

  Ana stared at the wolf in disbelief. “Why would you do this for me? This could be a suicide mission. You understand that, don’t you?”

  Ransome shrugged. “It’s not my nature to stand by while a woman heads into danger. Can’t do it, besides”—he arched a brow—“O’Hara will use his mojo crap to fuck me over huge if I let something happen to you. Christ, the last time someone pissed him off he spelled the worst kind of shit imaginable on the poor son of a bitch.” He shivered and grabbed his crotch. “Every time he had sex his dick nearly fell off. That would not be good for me.”

  “This is serious.”

  He spoke quietly. “I know.”

  How could Ana argue with that?

  “So what exactly are we stealing?”

  She couldn’t be sure, but was that a hint of glee in his voice?

  “The elixir of immortality,” she said quietly.

  “Fuck me.”

  Definite glee.

  Declan awoke with one hell of a headache.

  He rolled over and stumbled from the bed, his gut clenched tight, temples throbbing. Damn, but he hurt all over.

  His eyes peeled open and though he tried to get his bearings he was having difficulty. The hunger was overwhelming and the scent of blood was everywhere. Declan focused and swallowed. Painfully. His throat felt like dried cotton.

  The blood, where was it?

  The rickety table by the bed held the treasure he sought and he leapt toward it, groaning as he slid across the mattress. His hands eagerly entwined around the large glass decanter. It was full, filled to the brim with crimson gold.

  His body was covered in sweat and he felt like a junkie jonesing for a fix. Never had he felt so on edge, so fucked up. He drained the decanter, wiping any remnants he saw with his tongue.

  As his body relaxed, his senses sharpened and he looked around. Images assaulted his mind, Heaven and Hell all wrapped into one insane collage, with one constant thread: Ana. Unease slid over him.

  He walked toward the scattered canvases along the wall. His mouth fell open as he studied them. They were of him. All of them, amazing portraits that looked alive, painted with a brush that felt love.

  He frowned. The last one was of a stranger. A handsome man, with blue eyes and dark auburn hair. Jean-Charles no doubt.

  Fear clutched at him. Where the hell was she? Last thing he remembered was lying beneath Ana, her fangs distended, and then she . . .

  A growl escaped as he cursed a flurry of words. She’d drunk from him until he’d passed out.

  But why?

  Declan grabbed his clothes and quickly threw on jeans, shirt, and boots. He was down the stairs and swore when he saw the last fading rays of sun filtering in from the stained glass on either side of the front door.

  Christ, he’d been out for nearly twenty-four hours. Panicked, his long legs ate up the distance to the back kitchen in no time. Everyone was there. He could smell them.

  Everyone except Ana.

  “Where the hell is she?” He stalked over to Nico and swung his gaze toward a stranger. He was tall, lean—a werewolf—one of Ransome’s.

  “Ah been waiting on you,” the wolf said, his words a slow Louisiana drawl. “Got a message from Ransome.”

  Ana was in trouble. He could feel it.

  A wave of dizziness washed over him and he grunted with the effort it took to stay on his feet. He hissed, “Why didn’t you get me?” His question was directed at Nico.

  “I tried.” He shrugged. “You were dead to the world.” Nico’s face darkened as he frowned. “She drained you near dead, though it was a nice touch—leaving a gallon of blood.”

  His hand snaked out and he slammed the werewolf against the wall. “Where is she?”

  The werewolf growled and the air around them shimmered as his animal shifted beneath his skin.

  “He can’t answer if you’re fucking choking him,” Nico hissed.

  Declan slowly let his hands fall and the werewolf moved away, his hands rubbing his neck. “I was ordered by my alpha to give you a message—no one else—if he didn’t return.”

  “Where are they?” Declan roared.

  “They’ve gone to English Turn.”

  “Where the hell is that?” Declan rasped, glancing at Nico as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. At least she’d not planned another trip below.

  “It’s across the river.” The werewolf paused, his face strained. “He said he was going with your Ana to pay a visit to the vampire council, but they should have been back this morning.”

  “What possible reason would she have . . .” His voice trailed off as his mind worked overtime. Seth.

  Kaden started for the door, Daniel on his heels. “We have to go after her.”

  “You will do no such thing.” Cale entered the kitchen, and behind him, Samael. “I’m here to take the kids back to The Pines. They’ll be safe until Bill makes contact and we can figure out what to do with them.” He paused. “Where is the girl?”

  “Upstairs.” Nico nodded. “With the necromancer.”

  “I’m not going, not until Ana’s safe.” Kaden glared at Declan.

  “Don’t worry about Ana, I’ll bring her back.” Declan’s eyes met Cale’s. The tall Seraph nodded.

  “I will see you soon.” Cale turned to the teen boys. “Let’s go.” They started to protest but he silenced them with a wave of his hand. “Now.” His tone brooked no argument though Kaden’s angry glare shot bullets at his back.

  “Take care of my necromancer, brother. I’ve unfinished business with her, but for the moment”—Samael glanced at Declan—“I’m otherwise occupied.”

  “You’re not coming?” Cale arched a brow.

  “Can you not handle the children?” The sarcasm was hard to miss.

  “No worries there. I didn’t lose them, you did.”

  Samael smiled and flexed his hands. “Touché.” He turned to Declan. “I think I’ll come along, if you don’t mind.”

  Declan eyed the demon lord closely. He was unsure of the demon and his motives, but if he was willing to help Ana, that was good enough—for now. He turned to Nico. “You ready to
hunt?”

  The tall warrior grunted. “I’ve been ready for days. Babysitting a bunch of teenagers isn’t what I signed up for.”

  “Let’s go.” Declan headed for the door. He paused and scooped up a bag of goodies, filled to the brim with charmed daggers and special weapons used on supernatural beings. As the three of them stepped into the fresh night air, they startled a squirrel on the railing of the porch. It froze and then scurried away, disappearing into the gloom.

  Declan flexed his arms and called upon the power coiled in his gut. His gaze swept the now-empty porch.

  Smart little bastard. He wondered if the vampires would be as accommodating.

  He looked at the demon and jaguar warrior and then stepped down.

  Somehow, he didn’t think so.

  Chapter 34

  Ana sat in the corner of the sparse room and ignored the cameras protruding from every corner. The bright light overhead was harsh, the tiled floor cold. She was stiff, her face blank, but inside emotion raged hard and fast.

  Ransome was pacing. He’d been pacing ever since they’d been escorted inside, which was hours ago. She knew it was now early evening. Why the hell hadn’t council come for them?

  The whir of the camera sounded as it followed the werewolf. Ana fought the urge to throw up her middle finger and wave it. Actually she’d like nothing more than to take something long and hard and shove it up Alistair’s—

  The door opened suddenly and a tingle of anticipation rolled through her. Good. It was about fucking time.

  She stretched, took her time, and slowly rose to her feet. Ransome stopped his endless pacing and glanced at her. He arched a brow.

  Showtime.

  The tall vampire didn’t move and she felt the weight of his stare upon her back. She let her hands fall loose and cracked her neck. Her long auburn hair fell wildly about her shoulders. She tucked an unruly curl behind her ear and smiled as she turned to him.

  Alistair—member of the local vampire council. He was an ancient, a cold son of a bitch, the vampire who’d hunted and killed Cerise. He was in fact the council’s executioner and head of their security.

  He stepped into the light, his dead eyes clear and filled with anticipation. He was dressed in black, a long duster made of velvet that touched the floor as he walked. He took another step and crossed his hands behind his back and smiled. It quickly turned to a sneer as he spoke.

  “I hope you’re both well rested.”

  Ana’s urge to slam her fist upside the vampire’s head was violent, but she lowered her eyes, took a second to compose herself. She needed to keep to her plan. Play it cool.

  “I don’t know about rested, but I sure as hell could use some red meat,” said Ransome.

  A snort of disgust fell from Alistair. “You will not speak unless I ask it, wolf.” He turned his black gaze to Ana and stepped aside. “Shall we? It’s time we had a little chat. We’re most interested in finding out how you became aware of our location and why you’ve dared to bring a wolf into our midst.”

  Ana started forward, her steps unsure, hesitant. She kept her eyes lowered—didn’t trust that the hatred she felt was hidden—and she prayed he wouldn’t sense the undercurrent of magick that empowered her blood. It was the ace in her pocket. Of course the fact that Alistair believed all women were inferior could only help. His tendencies, both sexual and political, swayed toward the male of their species, and the only female he pretended to admire was the queen.

  Ransome fell in behind her and she was grateful he held his tongue. The tall wolf wasn’t used to taking shit from anyone and she knew he would like nothing more than to rip into Alistair.

  Wolves and vampires had a longstanding grudge, most of which was empowered by ignorance. Those stuck in the past, such as Alistair, would never change their shortsighted view of the world.

  Two guards stood outside and led the way toward the main house. She and Ransome had been held in one of the smaller outbuildings. The night was crisp, the air cool on her face. In the distance an owl hooted, its cry sad, melancholy. A shiver rippled over her flesh at the sound.

  Not a good omen.

  The main house was impressive, if you liked over-the-top, gaudy architecture. It was a large, gothic-looking monster with stone gargoyles and several turrets that seemingly had been put there just because. Retro was in and she was amused to see the vampires had jumped on the bandwagon.

  The foyer was large, opulent, filled with shades of gold, crimson, and black. A huge staircase dominated the center of the room and her gaze traveled upward, resting on several paintings that lined the wall. A stab of longing fell over her as she settled on a portrait of her parents. As direct descendants of the queen they were honored in this way.

  What would they think of her choices? Would her mother understand?

  “This way.” Alistair nodded to the right, toward a small alcove. She stepped through and into a large elevator which they rode down in silence.

  She knew they’d have one shot at getting to the vault. One shot at getting the elixir for Seth. Tucked into her boots lay the magick ball Declan had given her in Hell. It had the power to peel back layers of reality. Ana hoped it was enough to peel back a huge iron vault.

  If not, both she and Ransome were fucked. She cleared everything from her mind. When the elevator halted and the door opened, her fangs slid out.

  She heard Ransome growl. It was low, full of menace, a promise of things to come. Ana snarled, turned, and attacked.

  “So what’s the plan, sorcerer?” Samael eyed the property closely, his arms crossed, legs spread wide.

  “I don’t have one.” Declan studied the ten-foot walls. They were charmed, the wards impressive. “Was thinking we could ring the bell but something tells me that ain’t gonna work.”

  Nico joined the two of them. “I scouted the properties on both sides. They’re occupied by humans. Bet they’d shit their pants if they knew what lived next door.”

  Samael cracked his neck and removed his aviators. “Boys, I think it’s time for a little chaos, don’t you?”

  Declan glanced at the demon. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Watch and learn, sorcerer.”

  Samael slipped his aviators back in place and walked toward the gate. Declan glanced at Nico. “You ready?”

  The warrior smiled harshly and held his dagger loose, while slinging an impressive-looking rifle across his back. “Let’s do this.”

  Samael smashed the console near the entrance and immediately alarms sounded. He whipped out a cell phone, dialed 911, while behind him several vehicles, including the one they’d arrived in, exploded.

  Two vampires appeared on the other side of the gate. They were livid, their fangs fully engaged, eyes aflame with crimson lust. Declan reached Samael and nodded. He was impressed. “This should do.”

  The vampire closest to them snarled and rushed forward, leaping over the gate with no problem. Nico intercepted and the two went down hard. In the distance sirens sounded, signaling that police were on their way.

  “Go!” Samael shouted. “We’ll meet you inside”—he flashed a grin and eyed the second vampire—“in a bit.”

  Declan’s body thrummed with adrenaline. The energy in the air was sharp, dark, and powerful. He ran forward and jumped the fence easily, landing nearly ten feet away.

  The vampire mojo had kicked in and he grunted, welcoming the rush.

  Declan called the shadows to him and wove a protection spell that would hopefully be strong enough to cloak his body from the vampires within.

  He sensed several vamps running toward the gate, their preternatural speed propelling them forward so quickly he barely had time to duck behind one of the large oak trees that lined the driveway.

  Once they passed he made his way toward the main house, slipping through the shadows with ease. Ana’s scent was strong, as was Ransome’s—they’d trod this path recently.

  He crept up the front steps and opened the door, drawing out a
charmed dagger as he did so. No one was around and he figured the incessant alarms had pretty much called all available bodies to the breach near the front gate.

  Declan didn’t hesitate. Ana’s scent was like a trail of bread crumbs he had no problem following. It was dark, pitch black, and the sirens sounded loudly. He strode across the large foyer and slipped inside a small alcove. An elevator door was all it housed. He gritted his teeth and pressed the button.

  Less than five seconds later the doors slid open and he snarled, his fangs erupting painfully. It looked as if a bucket of crimson had exploded inside. A body was sprawled awkwardly. Its head had been severed. It was vampire.

  Declan jumped inside, ignored the carnage at his feet, and pressed the only option available, which was down.

  The alarm still sounded but it was muted here below the main house, and though it was dark, his eyes had no problem adjusting as he moved forward.

  Another body lay ahead. It stirred as he approached, moaning softly as it rolled over. The large male vampire opened his eyes and hissed, but Declan rendered him useless with one deadly swipe of his dagger.

  The smell of fear, violence, and pain lingered madly and he panted as his focus faltered and thoughts of Ana infiltrated his mind. Up ahead a small glow cut through the darkness. He knew Ana was there, just beyond his sight.

  Declan called on his power, loving the sizzle of energy that ran along his arms. It rested in the palm of his hand, and he exhaled. The smell of burned flesh infiltrated his nostrils and he growled. It was wolf, no doubt Ransome.

  He squared his shoulders and moved forward, his eyes on the glow at the end of the hall. He heard raised voices.

  “What havoc have you brought to this house?” It was male.

  A groan sounded softly and his insides turned to ice. Ana.

  The floor trembled and a glass case on the wall exploded, showering its contents all over the floor. Declan ran the last few steps and halted, his gaze cold as he surveyed the scene before him.

  Four vampires stood to his left. They glanced up at him in surprise. At their feet lay Ransome, his pallor gray, his eyes shot through with blood. Several wounds bled through his leather jacket and as he struggled to right himself, the vampire nearest him gave him the boots. It was a wicked blow that sent the werewolf flying.