Wrong Side of Hell Page 4

  Kira had to make him understand. “I’m not afraid.” She inched forward until she was so close that she could reach out and touch him. “Not anymore.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and she froze at the look on his face. His eyes burned blood red once more and for a second she could have sworn she glimpsed something savage in their depths.

  He both scared the crap out of her and tugged at something deep inside. At emotions long buried. Need. Want. In that moment Kira would have done anything to stay by his side. To fight with him. To touch him.

  To kiss him.

  Her hand rose of its own accord and she paused, wondering if the swell of emotion inside was because she was close to death.

  She felt that too—death—like a cold, lingering memory that wouldn’t go away. It didn’t matter. None of it did anymore. There was only the here and now. This man and their common enemy.

  “I won’t leave you.” She grabbed his arm and the roaring in her ears dialed down. His skin was taut beneath her fingers, his flesh burning hot, so very hot.

  He hissed and inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away.

  Kira’s breaths fell in short, painful spurts as her chest tightened. For several moments there was only the air escaping her lungs and the crazy beating of her heart. There were the small, curling hairs along his forearm and the shifting, corded muscles beneath.

  There was his heat. His smell. His intensity.

  Her eyes moved upward. She saw the thin sheen of sweat that coated his skin. The pulse that beat just as fast and hard as her own.

  When their eyes connected once more, she was shocked at the look on his face. It was something dark and disturbing.

  Suddenly he didn’t look anything like the man of moments before. He looked inhuman.

  He snarled and bared his teeth.

  She wretched her hand away and stepped back.

  “Smart girl.” He said savagely. “You say you’re not afraid?” He gestured toward the smoke creatures that were almost upon them. “They’re nothing like what I am.”

  His skin shifted, shadows flickering across his face as his eyes blazed at her. “What are you?” Kira whispered.

  The man she’d called savior for the last fifteen years rolled his shoulders and spoke coldly. “I’ll be your worst nightmare if you don’t listen to me and get the hell out of here.”

  Fire and sulfur filled her nostrils and the rumbling that erupted from his chest was menacing. He sounded like an animal.

  Kira blinked and a chill rolled over her at the smile that sat upon his face as he gazed at the smoke creatures. He looked like he wanted to rip them apart . . . with his bare hands.

  The screeching had ramped up considerably and the noise was near deafening. How the people in the market didn’t hear was a bloody miracle, and yet no one else had come to her rescue.

  “Run the other way and don’t stop until you have to.”

  “But,” Kira glanced backward. “But there’s nothing there. The alley ends.”

  He swore under his breath. Or at least Kira assumed it was some sort of curse word—it sure as hell wasn’t any language she’d ever heard before.

  “You need to trust me and go. A door will open. It always does in a place like this.”

  One of the smoke creatures broke formation and rushed toward them.

  “Now!” He shouted, pushing her behind him as he lunged forward, an eerie howl echoing into the night as he did so. “I will find you.”

  “But why are you here?” None of this made sense. “Where is here?”

  “Lady, we don’t have time for twenty questions.”

  Kira hesitated, suddenly not sure about anything anymore.

  “If you don’t get your ass out of here I’ll kill you myself.”

  Something in his tone scared her far more than the smoke creatures. She whirled around and took off, running as fast as she could until she reached the end of the alley. Boxes were stacked to the left of her, and on the right . . . she looked closer . . . was the wall moving?

  The brick liquefied and warped, moaning in protest as an opening appeared, and from behind it, the soft glow of light peaked through.

  Follow the light.

  What was this place? She must be dreaming. There could be no other explanation.

  Another screech ripped through the night, but this time it was followed by a roar that sent shivers racing across her flesh. It was ugly and full-bodied—filled with a darkness she was familiar with.

  Dream or no dream, it was enough to get her butt moving. She plunged into the unknown and didn’t look back.

  Chapter Five

  KIRA DOVE’S SCENT lingered in the air, a tantalizing fragrance that teased his nostrils. It held the merest whisper of honey, but was enough to point Logan in the right direction.

  He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, wincing at the pain that lashed across his muscles. The damn smoke creatures had proved harder to kill than he’d thought they’d be, and the extra time he’d dealt with them kept him that much farther away from his target.

  He’d been afraid that Kira’s scent would fade, that the gray realm would shift and it would take him too long to find her again.

  Luckily for him he’d been able follow her path from the alley, though he wasn’t entirely sure where he was at the moment.

  He turned, a muscle working its way sharply across his jaw as a frown stole over his features. His arm still tingled from her touch—the flash of heat and need still roiled beneath his flesh. In all of his years, he’d never felt such a connection—such an insane desire to take, to hold, and to claim. Not even when he’d fancied the werewolf, Lita.

  What the hell was up with that?

  His eyes narrowed as he searched the gloom; her energy left small signatures behind, little bits of her soul that glistened among the shadows. He saw them there, drifting up ahead, like magical fireflies. They were beacons of light in the darkness as surely as if she’d lit the path with a hundred torches.

  Behind him, the market had been swallowed whole—sucked into one of the many invisible threads of existence that shifted and changed constantly here. It’s what made purgatory so dangerous. The gray realm was constantly changing, combining bits of a person’s reality and bits of what the realm was—which, to most, was a mystery.

  Many had been lost here for millennia, especially the ones who didn’t belong.

  Like him.

  Logan rolled his shoulders and moved forward, pushing any thought but retrieval from his mind. Damned if he was going to stay any longer than he had to. He’d grab the girl, find his way back to the portal, and get the hell out. Once she was back in Bill’s custody he could forget all about Kira Dove.

  He slid among the shadows with predatory ease. Out here along the edges of the gray realm it was quiet, though the landscape was ever-changing. Buildings rose up on either side of him—tall, monstrous things that disappeared in the clouds—and down the way a carnival was in progress; a massive Ferris wheel slowly turned, though no one rode it.

  A gentle breeze stirred bits of paper and large orange leaves that had come from nowhere. They danced in front of him, lingering in the air, before being swept away behind him.

  The street before him was eerily quiet save for a lone soul several feet ahead of him. The man paused, swiveling his head around until he spied Logan.

  His clothing was not the modern type that Logan had come to prefer—jeans and t-shirt had been his mode of dress for years. This man, his clothing spoke of a different time.

  A top hat sat precariously on his head and his facial hair was elegant—a mustache neatly trimmed with a salt-and-pepper beard to match. Round glasses perched on an overly long, thin nose gave him a bit of a hawkish look. His overcoat was royal blue; at his throat a crisp, starched shirt; and his white pants, showing stains on the knees, were tucked into brown leather knee-high boots.

  In his hand he clutched a riding crop, his fingers covered with dirty gloves that at one ti
me must have been white, yet now were dove gray.

  The man tipped his head and tapped his hat. “I say, sir, can you point me toward . . .” He frowned. “I’m just looking for the . . .” His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Sorry . . . lately I seem to have difficulty remembering what exactly it is I’m looking for.”

  He arched a brow hopefully, a sad, wistful smile claiming his mouth.

  “Sorry, I can’t help you with that.” Logan’s words were clipped.

  Poor bastard. Logan wondered how many more years he was doomed to wander, never resting, always searching for the path that would lead him to salvation.

  “Oh yes, well,” the man crooked his head to the side and touched the edge of his top hat, “a good day to you then, sir.” Shoulders slumped, the man continued on his way and soon disappeared into the heavy mist that rolled across the pavement.

  Logan followed in his steps, his gaze locked on to the thinning whispers of light that danced in the air. He crossed the street, nostrils flaring as the girl’s scent sharpened and then faded.

  Where the hell was she?

  Logan paused, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He inhaled great gulps of air, his body analyzing every particle, tearing them apart, and seconds later he turned. The billowing clouds of mist faded and there across the way was a massive forest. He sensed many creatures hidden behind the trees: lost souls, spirit guides, and more than a few who didn’t belong.

  His chest grumbled and he bared his teeth. His human girl was wandering among them.

  Logan took off at a run and plunged headlong into the thick stand of trees. They were taller than any found in the human realm, great soldiers made of ancient wood that had stood guard for millennia, their eyes watching in silence the parade of souls doomed to wander the gray realm.

  In here, deep within their ranks, was an entirely different world. The quiet was heavy, the scents fresh and sharp. A healthy dose of greenery lay at his feet—tall grasses, weeds, and bushes—and the rich scent of freshly mown lawn reached his nostrils.

  What the hell? He supposed nothing should surprise him, but still . . .

  Logan turned to the left and slipped deeper into the forest, his eyes catching small twists of energy that dissolved in the air just as quickly as they appeared. Overhead a crimson moon shone, casting an eerie glow that penetrated through the trees until it reached the forest floor and bathed the underbrush in red.

  He began to jog, zigzagging among the maze of trees. She was close by—he could feel it.

  A few moments later the trees gave way to a clearing and he stopped abruptly. The drone of a lawn mower echoed, but the sound was thick instead of sharp, as if muted. A large balding man sat atop a massive red contraption, humming a tune, as a gold and white dog and kitten ran behind it. Perfect green rows that crisscrossed in an elegant pattern lay before him. It was a veritable masterpiece, if you were into landscaping.

  Yeah, that looked about right, cutting the grass at night under a blood-red moon . . . in the middle of a park.

  Welcome to the gray realm.

  The man glanced up, smiled and waved, and then pointed toward a white pavilion in the distance, near the edge of the forest. The Dove girl was there. Alone.

  He reached the pavilion just as she turned.

  “You found me.”

  “I told you I would.”

  “I’ve learned that most men are liars.” She stared down at him and her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand any of this. You need to explain things to me.”

  Logan studied the girl and realized a few things. First off, she wasn’t a girl—there was nothing remotely childish about the woman who stared down at him. Her long dark hair blew in the breeze and her features, while pale, were exceptional—large almond-shaped eyes in a shade of chocolate that was hard to describe, delicate nose, and small, generous mouth. And though she was slender, she filled out a dress the way a woman should—with high, firm breasts, a narrow waist, and soft, rounded hips.

  He felt a modicum of relief. Had he reacted to Kira simply because her beauty called to him? Was that all it was?

  He thought of the broken body at the morgue with the chopped-off hair, gaunt face, and dried blood—the bruises, scarred wrists, and broken bones. That was Kira Dove’s reality. This was nothing more than a fantasy, and sadly, she didn’t know it yet.

  It was a lie. All of it.

  An owl hooted in the distance, breaking the silence, its sad, lonely call echoing eerily in the air. Logan turned toward the forest. Something slithered among the trees, several hundred feet away. His nostrils flared—it wasn’t friendly. The stink of otherworld was all over it.

  He didn’t have time to hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be all right. He needed to get her the hell out of the park and out of the gray realm, back to the shit reality she’d been stolen from. Bill could deal with her from there and leave both him and his mother the hell out of it.

  “We need to leave.” His tone was brusque and he motioned for her to follow. The trojan demons and the smoke creatures they’d borne had been handled easily by him. Child’s play, really. But Logan knew the big guns would be dispatched as soon as word reached whoever it was that wanted the girl dead that a hellhound was loose in the gray realm—one with a claim on the human.

  He couldn’t risk losing her. Not with the fate of his mother at hand.

  He glanced up at her once more, took stock of the squared shoulders and chin thrust out in defiance. “You don’t listen well, do you?” Logan took a step closer.

  “Do you know what this place is?” She turned in a circle, arms outstretched, totally oblivious to the danger hidden in the shadows.

  “Looks like a patch of grass and some trees to me.”

  “No.” She nailed him with an intense look. “No, it’s not. I’ve seen it before.” Her brow furled and his gaze settled on her lips as a small tongue darted out. “In magazines, just like I saw the market. Every detail is the same. I used to fantasize about losing myself in those places.” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and shook her head. “Back at the . . .” She rubbed her forehead and bit her lip. “Back at that place.” A smile crossed her face. “Back at the Institute.” She finished triumphantly.

  He remained silent, though he was aware of the shadows shifting beyond his line of sight.

  “That man? Cutting the grass?” She exhaled a long, shuddering breath. “I know him . . . I mean, I knew him. He was a groundskeeper at the Regent.” She watched the man for a few seconds, a faint smile on her face. “He was nice to me. I was never allowed outside but sometimes I’d manage to sneak away. All I wanted was to be free, you know?” She shook her head and whispered. “I’d go months without feeling the sun on my face, or smelling the salt of the ocean. Occasionally I’d find a way to sneak outside. He’d see me but pretend he didn’t. He’d lie for me. If I was lucky, Mergerone wouldn’t find me for hours.”

  “That’s nice. Now can we go?” Logan took a step up onto the pavilion. He’d damn well pull her down if he had to.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand more than you know.”

  She pointed to grass-cutting man once more. “He died a few years ago. Mergerone couldn’t wait to tell me. So why is he here? Why am I here?” Her voice rose several notches. “How could I have been at a market in the Caribbean and in Central Park within an hour of each other? On what planet is that possible?”

  A dark sliver of energy materialized on the far side of the park. Logan growled and took the last step until he was inches from her. “Look, lady. We don’t have time for tea and cookies and twenty-five fucking questions.”

  She totally ignored him, which pissed him off. Usually when Logan’s animal rumbled beneath his flesh, people took notice.

  “You rescued me from that . . . that thing all those years ago. I remember all of it. I know you too.”

  That surprised him.

  “You brought
me back from the dark place. You saved me from the beast.”

  “The beast?” He snorted. If she only knew.

  Her eyes were liquid pools and she nodded slowly. “Yes, the beast. At least that’s what I call it.” She paused. “I thought of you as my savior for the longest time, but that’s not what you are, is it?”

  “No.”

  She paused and then whispered. “So what are you?”

  He watched her closely. “The beast.”

  “You’re full of shit.” Damn but she had spunk.

  “Am I?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it as fear entered her eyes. It amused Logan that she thought him a savior, and yet at the same time, she looked so damn lost that . . . that what? He thought he could help? He wanted to help? Did he think a hug and a kiss on the cheek was going to make everything all right?

  First off, he didn’t do hugs, and secondly . . . did he really want to go there?

  Angrily Logan inched forward. He had no time for bullshit. The shadows that crept along the edge of the park were now tenfold. The time for games was over.

  “Kira,” he began, surprised at how easily her name rolled off his lips. She took another step and backed away from him.

  “Stay away from me.”

  “I can’t do that. I was sent to bring you back and I’m not leaving here without you.” He let that sink in. “So, listen up. You see those shadows over there?” He pointed toward the far edge of the park and waited until she turned to look. “Those are trojans. They’re slaves to otherworld creatures of great power, and if they’re here it means their master isn’t far behind. They’ll keep coming for you until . . .”

  He was so close to her he could count the lashes that feathered her eyes. For a few seconds he stared down at her—inhaling her fear and confusion.

  His voice trailed off and he grabbed her chin, slowly pulling her face up toward his. She licked her lips and for a second he was lost. Lost in her scent, in her warmth and the softness of her skin. He felt a pull, deep inside, a tug at the very heart of him—that place of darkness, and passion, and feral need.