Hell in a Handbasket Read online

Cain steps forward, scanning Aria. “What's that?” He nudges his chin toward the lynx who half-growls, half-screeches a sound in response.

  “A lynx, I think. I found him in a hunter’s trap. He’s… He’s kinda taken to me.” Aria clutches the animal in her arms like a small baby.

  Elias’s nostrils flare as he draws in the kitten’s scent, and he shakes his head frantically. “No. No way,” he growls. “Leave it here.”

  “No!” I stiffen at Aria’s protest. “Cassiel stays with me.”

  “You named it?” Cain says.

  “After an angel, of all things?” I ask her with wide eyes. She hadn’t told me that.

  Her uninjured shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. “I thought it’d be funny.”

  Cain’s expression remains stiff, as if carved from stone. “Hilarious.”

  “If I’m coming back with you, Cassiel comes too,” Aria says.

  Elias growls. “You don’t have ground to negotiate here—”

  I throw him a glare to cut him off. Hellhounds and their territory. We found Aria. She’s in one piece. We’ve all been through a great deal. Can’t we just pick our battles here and worry about the damn cat later?

  “You're burned,” Cain interjects suddenly, directing the statement to me. “Have you got the lost pieces?”

  I shake my head. “I only found Aria. The dragon still has them.”

  He clenches his jaw, the muscles at his temples jumping. He doesn’t need to say a word. We all know he’s unhappy.

  Hell, so am I.

  “We're not getting it now,” I reply before he commands us to return to the beast’s lair. “He’ll burn down the damn woods with us in it. This isn't the time to confront a dragon.”

  “We know he has the relics, so we'll return,” Elias states, staring at the lynx, who hisses at him.

  Suddenly, I’m loving the new addition to our home. Anything that aggravates the hellhound is a win to me.

  “Can we get out of here already?” Aria pipes up. Beside me, she trembles, and I’m not sure if it’s from fear, exhaustion, the temperature dropping, or all of the above.

  Cain turns to her, and I watch the war on his face, the things he wants to say to her. From lying to us, stealing, hiding her shadow ability. I expect Cain to charge into a rant, and I step forward to stop him. This isn't the place.

  But instead of lashing out, his shoulders fall and a heavy sigh escapes. “Alright. Let’s go home.”

  Just like that, the big sin demon surprises me. It’s apparent I’m not the only one being influenced by this woman. Cain has always been in charge, his temper rampant. Elias is always lost in the wind, a wild beast trapped in a man’s body. And now they are both struggling to make sense of what way is up… all because of a human.

  Except, Aria’s so much more than a human, isn’t she?

  Chapter Six

  Aria

  We make our way down the rest of the mountainside. When a black sports car comes into view among the weeds, I almost weep with joy. Everything hurts. Every inch of me throbs and stings, and all I want to do is rest my aching body, if only for a few minutes.

  The fact that I feel safer with three just as deadly demons (maybe even more deadly) says something, but right now, I don’t care. I’m just glad to be away from that fucker and his crazy crow.

  At the car, Cain opens the passenger side door and folds down the seat. He waves for Dorian and Elias to get in.

  “Oh no, you’re not driving, are you?” Dorian asks, wincing from the pain that moving his mouth brings.

  “Don’t start,” Cain warns and gestures for Elias to help him into the back. This must be something they’ve bickered about before.

  “But it’s my car…”

  Elias growls in annoyance and pushes him into the back seat before squeezing in himself, and the entire car rocks from his sudden weight. I don’t know how either of them fit, honestly. The ceiling is so low, and the space looks so cramped, it almost looks painful for them.

  Cain shoves the passenger seat back, causing a grunt of pain from Elias, before he holds out his hand to help me in next. His touch is strangely warm compared to mine, but his eyes are icy cold. He tries to help me into the car, but I pause, looking up at him.

  “Cain…” There’s so much I want to tell him. My mind is chaotic with all the thoughts running through it. The last time I saw him, he was standing over a man and sucking out his soul. He’d been a complete monster, with wings and all, and I still wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Terrified, for one. And… curious. Especially since he’d helped me get to safety before the Full Mooner werewolves attacked. He even worked to find me after I’d been taken by Sir Surchion—all three of them had. But why?

  The relics. That’s why. It was the only reason I could think of. But I didn’t have any of them now, and they were still driving me home.

  You’re their property, remember?

  That was true, too. But now that they knew for sure I’d taken the relics and lost them, was I going to be punished? Dorian didn’t seem mad when he’d found me, but Cain… I could never get a true read on him.

  He waits there for me to continue, my hand still in his, but I’ve lost my voice. The storm raging in my head has won out.

  “Th-Thank you,” is what comes out instead. I’m not sure why.

  His head tilts as if my words have confused him as well. A bit embarrassed, I slide my hand out of his and climb into the passenger seat by myself. When the door slams shut, I release a held breath and try to settle into the stiff leather seat. Despite my discomfort, Cassiel curls in my lap, seeming to be right at home.

  Taking his place beside me, Cain turns on the car and grips the wheel. His lips press into a tight line, almost as if he wants to say something to me but is struggling with it, too.

  “Please tell me you remember how to start a car.” Dorian’s voice cuts through the tense silence. Cain’s expression changes to the mask of controlled rage I know so well. He turns the key in the ignition to answer Dorian’s question, and the engine roars to life.

  “That’s a relief,” Dorian continues to tease from behind him. “Perhaps we can speed things up this time?”

  “Dorian.” Cain’s lips barely move as he growls his name in warning.

  But, like usual, he persists. “With Cain driving, by the time we actually get home I’m going to be dead.”

  “If you don’t shut your fucking mouth, you’ll be dead before I even step on the gas pedal,” Cain snaps.

  “Alright, grandpa.”

  Wow. Sounds like I’m not the only one who’s had a rough day.

  “Maybe you should knock him out, Elias,” Cain says, glancing over his shoulder. “Put him and us out of our misery.”

  The car shifts again as Elias moves.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me,” Dorian shoots at him and then heaves a sigh. “Fine. Let’s just get home.”

  Cain eases forward, the Ferrari's tires struggling to find purchase through the dirt and leaves, but he’s able to steer us out of the woods and eventually onto a paved road. Once we’re on asphalt again, I expect him to punch the gas to race us home, but he keeps up his slow and careful pace. Confused, I glance over to the dashboard and read our speed. Only forty miles per hour.

  I guess Dorian wasn’t kidding about the grandpa comment. For a demon—one driving a sports car, no less—I expected him to drive like a bat out of Hell. Not a turtle.

  Dorian smacks Cain’s headrest impatiently. “This thing can go zero to sixty in two seconds, you know.”

  Cain grits his teeth in annoyance. “I’m not going to scare Aria.”

  “Me?” I quip in surprise. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. I just want to get away from that mountain as fast as possible.”

  “See?” Dorian continues. “Hell forbid if you actually hit the speed limit.”

  Elias snickers, but Cain’s grip tightens on the steering wheel.

  This is one of the most absurd things I’ve eve
r witnessed. Demons arguing about who’s the best driver? And I thought I’d seen it all.

  Hysterical laughter bubbles up my throat, and despite how fucked-up everything is right now, I can’t help myself. Maybe it’s because everything that’s happened to me in the last twenty-four hours has finally caught up with me—I’ve been kidnapped, beaten, bitten by a fucking werewolf, my life drained by my own shadow, kidnapped again, this time by the same asshole in dragon form, and chased all over a mountain. I laugh because if I don’t, I’ll cry, so I just let it go.

  I can feel the stares of the demons on me. Hell, Cassiel is even looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. And maybe I have.

  When I start to wheeze and my chest feels like it’s wound too tight, I sink in the seat. The car grows deathly quiet, but I don’t look at anyone. My gaze drifts out the window at the passing scenery. Exhaustion washes over me, and in the silence, I let my eyes drift closed.

  ELIAS

  No one dared wake Aria up during the ride back to the mansion. Even when we reached the house, I carried her out of the car and upstairs to her room so she could keep sleeping. She snuggled into my chest, her head pressed against my naked torso, and all I could feel was sympathy and rage. She was covered in bruises, scratches, and dried blood. The chunk missing from her shoulder from the werewolf bite seemed to be her biggest injury, and if I had the power, I’d resurrect that Full Mooner asshole and kill him all over again for doing it to her.

  She appears so fragile in my arms. So small. I hate that I wasn’t able to chase down the van and rescue her before things got out of hand.

  When I place her in bed and pull the covers over her, she doesn’t even stir. Heavy sleeper, which makes sense considering she doesn’t wake up whenever I come into her room in the middle of the night. The little lynx kitten she found in the woods hops up and takes its place on the pillow near her head. It hisses at me, and I growl back.

  Unintimidated, it circles on the pillow and curls up to sleep.

  Freakin’ furball. I’m going to have to talk to Cain again about letting her keep that thing. There’s no way I am letting a feline stay here. There’s already one wild animal living in this house, and that is me. We definitely don’t need a pet, especially one that is snack-sized.

  As I walk out of her room, I lock the door. With everything she’s been through, I doubt it’s even needed. She doesn’t have the strength to try to pull some daring escape right now, but I don’t need Cain yammering at me either.

  Speaking of the Pride demon, I find him and Dorian in the parlor in their usual spots—Cain is brooding near the fireplace, staring distantly into the fire, while Dorian’s stretched out on the couch, legs up on the armrest and a bag of ice pressed against the side of his face. He’s lucky he fed before catching the dragon’s fire, otherwise, who knows if he’d be talking right now. Our ability to heal is dampened on this side of the veil as it is. Feeding on souls helps recharge us. And since the flesh around the side of his face and along his neck is still raw and angry looking, the dragon must have really done a number on him.

  “I hope this doesn’t scar,” Dorian mumbles, more to himself than anyone else. Lifting the ice pack away, he touches the side of his face and hisses. “Shit.”

  “I think scarring is the least of your worries,” I say, holding out my own arms to show him the patchwork of marks lining my skin from the hundreds of fights I’ve been in. “Besides, it’ll make you look tougher. Not so much of a pussy.”

  He swings his legs over as he sits up, then glares at me with his one good eye. His mouth opens to counter, but Cain interjects before he can.

  “We have more important things to talk about right now,” he says, still not looking our way. “Like what we’re going to do with Aria.”

  “And the relics,” I add, eyeing him skeptically. I’m surprised he didn’t mention them first.

  He twirls the crimson-stone ring his father gave him around his finger in thought. “Yes… right.”

  “Speaking of the dragon and his rat-bastard of a bird, how are we getting the relics back from them?” I direct the question to either of them, whoever can offer a good answer.

  “We can’t go back to the mountain,” Dorian says and gestures to the side of his face. “He knows the landscape better than us. He has the advantage there.”

  “But we know this town.” Cain says, still not looking up. “A dragon won’t leave its treasures behind for too long, and his hoard is at the warehouse and shop.”

  I grin, an idea forming with his words. “We can catch him there.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking as well.”

  “I’ll go.” A growl rumbles in my throat. I have some serious unfinished business anyway.

  “I’m in too,” Dorian adds.

  “Not yet.” Cain’s response is clipped short. “We’ll call on Ramos to see what souls are due to be collected. Then we feed. Regain our strength. Heal.”

  Dorian slumps lower on the couch with the ice pressed to his face, knowing he’s talking about him, mostly. “And what of Aria?” he tacks on. “She’s been through a great deal. I say we have the maid, Sadie, go to her room in the morning, clean and bind that nasty werewolf bite of hers, and then we let her rest. Maybe for another day or two—”

  “And what about that ghostly figure with the red eyes we saw slip back into her body?” I ask. “What if she unleashes it again, this time on us?”

  Dorian hesitates. I know he wants to defend Aria, but he’s still unsure of her motives, like the rest of us. “I don’t think she will,” he settles with.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “To me, it appeared like she didn't know how to control it,” he says. “She even lost consciousness—”

  “That could have been from the blood loss, not the shadow creature,” I retort with an annoyed huff. “You’re thinking with your dick again, Dorian.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m just suggesting it’s not as black and white as we may think. If she wanted to use the shadow on us, she would have done it weeks ago.”

  It’s then that I realize Cain’s remained silent during this entire exchange. Usually he’s told us to knock it off by now.

  Dorian must notice it too, because he swivels on the couch and asks, “What say you, Cain? Do we give her a bit to recoup? Maybe let her gain some trust in us, that way she can tell us willingly? Or do we bombard her with questions right out the gate, possibly causing her to lie and making us no better off?”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” I grumble under my breath.

  For a long moment, Cain still doesn’t respond. Only stares into the dancing flames in the hearth and twists the ring on his finger.

  “Cain?” Dorian asks again.

  He blinks as if shaken from a dream and turns to us. “We give her the night. Then tomorrow we get the answers we need.”

  Worry passes over Dorian’s expression at that. “You’re not talking about our usual methods of questioning, are you?”

  Torture, he means. Even I have to admit thinking about using those forceful tactics doesn’t sit well with me either. Not on her.

  “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that,” Cain replies.

  “I don’t think it’s necessary,” Dorian adds. “I spoke to her before, and she confessed to me that she stole the harp’s eye from Sir Surchion for money. She truly believed it was her way to get out of poverty.”

  “And you believe her?” he asks.

  Dorian hesitates, glancing at me for help, but I have none to offer him. I’m just as confused and conflicted. This woman and all the mystery she carries is new territory for us. Is there any real way to tell if she’s ever being honest with us? Without Dorian’s powers of compulsion, I don’t know.

  This scenario is starting to remind me a little too much of Serena, and I’m sure Cain and Dorian are seeing the parallels there as well. I swore I’d never make that mistake again, that I’d never put that much trust in someone, because this time, it cou
ld end with us losing more than just our homes. We could lose our lives.

  “I want to,” Dorian answers finally. He shakes his head, sighing. “I truly want to.”

  Don’t we all.

  “Tomorrow then,” Cain says, pulling his shoulders back. He may not be completely happy with the decision, but he’s made up his mind. “She rests for now. She will be bandaged and cared for in the morning, and then…” His gaze flicks to me again.

  I nod. “We pounce.”

  Chapter Seven

  Aria

  I flip open my eyes at the same moment a guttural snore erupts from beside me. Any hope I had of sleeping in this morning is vanquished immediately. Rolling onto my side, I find Elias on his back, one arm up on the pillow, the other across his stomach, and most of my blanket wrapped around him.

  Cassiel, my little lynx, is curled by my feet, sleeping like a round ball of fluff. He’s taken to me quickly, and I have every intention of keeping him by my side. But Elias… he’s neither a pet nor my boyfriend, so he has no business sleeping here with me.

  Another snore draws my attention back to him. How many times are we going to go through this? It’s getting ridiculous.

  Bed stealer. I shove a hand into his arm. “Hey buddy, get out of my bed.”

  He groans and turns his back to me, wrenching all the blankets with him, so I’m left completely uncovered. A small whimper comes from the bottom of the bed where Cassiel is on his side, eyes half awake, fur a mess, looking utterly confused by being so rudely awakened. He curls back up in his spot and is sleeping again in seconds.

  Maybe the trick is to start sleeping in Elias’s room and see what he does. Who’s heard of a sleepwalking hellhound anyway? It’s the only rational explanation for his behavior, but why he chooses my bed remains a mystery.

  I flop back onto my bed for a few moments, staring up. The morning sunlight streams across the ceiling, igniting the crystals in the chandelier and throwing twinkling lights all over the bedspread. The severity of everything I’ve been through sits like a weight on my chest.