A Cat's Chance in Hell Read online

  A Cat’s Chance in Hell

  The Hellcat Series - Book 1

  By

  Sharon Hannaford

  Copyright

  Published by Sharon M Hannaford

  Copyright © 2011 Sharon M Hannaford

  Cover art by Sharon M Hannaford

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and occurrences are fictitious and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or means, electronic or mechanical, without permission from the copyright holder.

  Dedication

  If it were not for one specific person, this book would never have got past chapter 3. It would have fallen by the wayside as one of those “projects I’ll get back to one day”. He nagged, suggested, coerced, encouraged and finally, quite literally, put his money where his mouth was.

  So this one’s definitely for Tim – brother in a million!

  Acknowledgements

  As with any endeavour this one was not accomplished without the help of many people in my life. Some helped in big, quantifiable ways and others in smaller, less definable, but equally meaningful ways.

  So thanks must go to the usual suspects; Brian for the practical advice and encouragement, Mel for being the core of my crit group and for doing wonders for my writing ego, Mom, Dad and the rest of the family for the support during the tough times.

  Appreciation must also go the rest of my test readers for their insightful input and unerring support, and the BFFs in the ‘Naki who dragged me away from the computer for a cup of coffee, a chat, a movie or a girls’ night - you definitely kept me sane, and I’ll never forget your unwavering support when life threw a small, ugly mountain in my path.

  I was lucky enough to work with a fantastic editor who was patient and encouraging, who tolerated my uncontrollable need to rewrite every word myself with good humour, and was willing to let me learn from her as we went. Big thanks to Pauline Nolet.

  Garth and Robert you are the reason I get up every morning, the reason I scramble over every obstacle in my path, the reason I’m determined to succeed. Even when you drain my last drop of patience and get on my very last nerve I still love you both insanely.

  Chapter 1

  The nightclub was packed for a Thursday night. “Just my luck.” Gabi thought sourly, wondering how many more times she was going to be hit on before she tracked down her target. Between the men, the flashing lights and the pounding music her annoyance gauge was on max and her patience gauge was on zero. Not a good combination. She casually swirled the whiskey and ice around in her glass as she swivelled on her barstool, doing another sweep of the writhing mass of dancers with her supernatural senses. She growled in frustration. Zilch again. She drained her glass and was considering a refill when she felt a small vibration against her left breast. She surreptitiously reached into her bra and pulled out the tiny phone, flicking it open to read the message. She sighed, the message wasn’t good news, but at least it meant a reprieve from the sensory abuse of the club. She quickly wound her way though the throng of barely-clothed revellers, deftly avoiding groping hands and drunken invitations.

  When she finally burst out the door into the crisp night air she paused to drag in a few deep breaths and adjust to the sudden lack of light and noise. The bouncer leaning against the outside wall looked her up and down appreciatively.

  “Summin’ I can help you with Sugar?” he drawled, pulling another drag from the cigarette held semi-concealed in his huge paw of a right hand. She surmised his boss didn’t like him smoking on the job. He was tall and broad-shouldered, overly muscular, your typical, garden variety nightclub bouncer. She watched his gaze travel over her high-collared bolero jacket, her form-fitting, black mini dress that showed off her toned thighs and all the way down to the four inch heels of her patent-leather, black boots clinging lovingly to her shapely calves, and then slowly back up again, this time taking in her lustrous, auburn curls cascading in gentle waves onto her shoulders.

  “I’m off duty in twenty.” He hinted with a grin, his teeth seeming very white against the dark, chocolate brown of his skin. His eyes finally met her own emerald green ones and she worked to keep her expression flirtatious. He didn’t need to see the real Gabi Bradford; he hadn’t committed the kind of crimes that her elusive target had. It amused her to think of how quickly his sexy leer would switch to astonishment if he got close enough to touch her, close enough to feel her concealed accessories. She contained her dark humour and instead gave him a smile of apologetic regret.

  “Sorry, big boy, I have business elsewhere,” she gave him a wink, “but I might be back later.” He sighed gustily as she sauntered away from him down the dimly lit side-walk. As soon as she was around the corner she dropped the sultry sway and quickened her stride, heading swiftly for a parking area around the back of the club. There was a short cut to the lot, but it was a dark, unsavoury alleyway that most people would avoid at this time of the night. As she stepped into the alley her internal radar pinged. She wasn’t alone. She didn’t know whether to sing hallelujah or curse like a sailor. After spending three hours in Club ‘Hell on Gabi’s Nerves’ her mark had been hanging around outside in a back alley. Adrenaline surged but she controlled her physical reactions, not showing any outward sign that she knew he was there. She strode briskly down the uneven tarmac, keeping her head down and exuding an aura of distracted vulnerability, directly into the path of the dark shadows hunching between rows of garbage bins where a tall, trench-coated figure waited with inhuman stillness.

  The tall, pale stranger lounging in the shadows may have been surprising in his choice of hunting ground, but there was nothing surprising about his method of attack. As soon as Gabi drew level with him, he detached himself from the shadows and in an instant was just behind her left shoulder. Gabi feigned a gasp of shock and spun to face him, flicking a hand to the back of her neck as she did so. The speed with which she moved must have startled him, because as she held the curved blade of her sword, aptly named Nex, pressed against his cool, untanned skin he froze, staring at her with his mouth slightly open, two grossly elongated canines gleaming dully in the dingy glare of a distant streetlight.

  “Angeli Morte,” he gasped in a bare whisper, his eyes wide with sudden fear. Gabi snarled in annoyance, her face no longer calm and composed.

  “Yes,” she growled, “I’ve heard some use that name for me.” The pressure of Nex against the place where his pulse should beat increased minutely. “I’m told you’ve been a bad boy, Thomas,” she hissed, “I’ve heard you like to make your meals scream.”

  She watched as the realisation of his fate crossed his face. He knew he’d been tried and found guilty already, that was when the pleading usually started. Thomas tried the ‘go-down-fighting’ route instead. He spun away from Nex and came at her from behind, lunging for the back of her neck with a speed and force that would have sent most people flying across the alley, but Gabi had spun with him, levelling her blade at his chest. He surged forward, unable to brake his own momentum and Nex slid easily between his ribs bisecting his heart before his brain registered his mistake.

  Gabi grimaced and yanked Nex out of the Vampire’s chest as the body slid to the ground in a graceless heap. As she bent to wipe Nex on the bloodsucker’s trench coat she caught the faint trace of a familiar scent coming from the far end of the alleyway. A man stepped out of the shadows, a cocky grin on his face. He was tall and lean in an endurance-athlete sort of way, though his shoulders were broad and muscular enough to make him look slightly out of proportion. His tousled, sandy blonde hair gave him an
approachable, ‘boy-next-door’ look, but Gabi knew better than to be fooled by outward appearances.

  “Thanks for the help,” she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm, as the new-comer approached at a gentle lope.

  “I didn’t want to spoil your fun or deprive Nex of another notch in her sheath, Angeli Morte,” he said with a wicked grin. Gabi rolled her eyes and shook her head with a long suffering sigh.

  “Drat,” she cursed, looking down at the Vampire again. “This shithead’s a young one; he’s not going to turn to ash. We’ll have to stash him somewhere until a clean-up team can get to him.” The body had already taken on the shrunken, desiccated look of a long dead corpse, but didn’t appear to be decomposing any further.

  “Make yourself useful, Wolf,” she said, toeing the body and making a shooing motion with her hands towards the industrial sized garbage bins clinging like overgrown limpets to the grimy brick walls. He gave her a disgustedly reproachful look, but grabbed the collar of the trench coat and dragged the body away without further comment.

  While he stashed the body safely out of sight Gabi made a call to the clean-up team. As Kyle straightened and wiped his hands against his denim covered thighs she remembered that he’d called her away from the bar with a text message. He’d said it was urgent.

  “Now tell me Kyle dearest,” she said, advancing on him with Nex still held loosely in her right hand, intrigue warring with annoyance. “What was so important that you had to pull me off a job?”

  “Put that thing away,” he grumbled, grabbing her sword hand as she got close enough to touch him with the tip of the blade. “Where do you stash her in that outfit anyway?”

  Gabi arched one eyebrow arrogantly and, in a movement too quick for the human eye to follow, slid the blade back into the sheath nestled between her shoulder blades. She shook out her hair to hide the tip of the hilt which protruded ever so slightly from the top of her jacket. She didn’t know what difference it made to Kyle, he knew that she could kill with her bare hands, but maybe he was thinking back to the last time someone saw her holding the sword and called the cops. It was a tense scene when they arrived and tried to disarm her. Only Kyle’s calm head had kept the damage to a minimum until a clean-up team arrived and one of the Magus crew was able to wipe the memories of the whole event from the cop’s minds.

  The air was suddenly tinged with the scent of adrenaline. Gabi’s body responded instinctively to Kyle’s tense excitement as he elaborated on his message.

  “The Magi surveillance team has picked up a huge power shift near the old sports stadium. There is some weird anomaly with the ley lines running under there. They predict as many as six or seven Demons will try to cross the Void at the same time,” he reported, all hint of teasing chit-chat now gone.

  “Shit. That many? How long have we got?” She was all business now. “I need to pick up some weapons on the way,” she looked down at herself, “and some clothes.”

  Kyle turned to head back down the alley towards the parking lot, a superior grin on his face. “I’ve got you covered,” He threw back over his shoulder. “I figured you’d need some other work clothes, and I brought a selection of your favourite weapons, as well as some proto-types from the geeks in the Tech department. Byron says the Veil will be thinnest in around...” he glanced at his watch, “Forty-five minutes. My van is just here.”

  She raised her eyebrow as they strode into the lot. “My car is faster.”

  “But I saw it parked three blocks away and my van has work clothes and weapons,” he countered.

  “Fine,” she conceded impatiently. “But I’m driving. And if my car gets towed you’re going to get it out of hock. The last time I went into a police station they tried to arrest me for weapons smuggling!”

  Kyle had to stifle a chuckle. Her last trip into the police station to retrieve her car was unforgettable; when she’d walked through the metal detectors the cops didn’t know whether to chat her up or arrest her. Springing the car would’ve been easy if she’d decided to use her charm on them, but she was so pissed that the towing of her car had caused her to lose track of her mark that she took her temper out on the officers instead. Kyle was glad he’d been there to calm everyone down before things escalated to actual violence. Even though there’d been over half a dozen cops in the station at the time he knew where his money would’ve been, and it wasn’t on the boys in blue.

  He’d left his van close to where they exited the alley. It’d once been a people mover, of the sort that families with lots of kids drove around in. He’d ripped out most of the interior, blacking out the windows and giving it the appearance of a camper van, complete with bed and mini bar. What the average inspection wouldn’t uncover was the hidden compartments under the bed and in the floor, concealing a mini arsenal of weapons. He’d personally replaced the original engine and upgraded the suspension, tyres and braking system. It was one of the great loves of his life, so it was with resigned reluctance that he threw Gabi the keys. The stadium was a good half hour drive from the City centre, so there was no time to waste arguing with her.

  Gabi drove the suped-up van like a sports car, speeding through red lights and crossing intersections without slowing. Kyle would swear she took some of the corners on two wheels instead of four. He was used to her driving, but winced every time she red-lined the engine. Suddenly she slammed on the brakes almost hurling him nose-first into the dashboard; only his inhuman reflexes saved his boyish good looks. He grimaced as he smelt the burnt rubber from what was left of his almost new, low-profile tyres. A tabby cat stood frozen in the middle of the road directly in front of them, its eyes turned almost completely black by the onslaught of the van’s headlights. Gabi stared at it for a half second and Kyle could feel the slight whisper of supernatural power tickle the hairs on his arms, then the cat hissed loudly and bolted off into the darkness.

  “Bloody hell,” she cursed, flooring the accelerator and sending them hurtling down the street again, the engine whining in protest.

  “What exactly did you say to it anyway?” he asked curiously. Gabi’s ability to communicate with animals was the stuff of legends, but he was one of the few people who knew the true extent of her gift.

  “I told him to go home and stop chasing cute little pussy tails around at night, or a big bad monster was coming to get him,” she replied with a stern huff. “That should keep him off the roads for a couple of nights.” Kyle grinned, shaking his head. That was the Gabi he knew and loved; as quick to save the life of an innocent, no matter what species, as to take the life of a monster. She was actually kinda sweet in that way, but nobody had the rocks to say that to her face, not even him.

  “What’re you grinning at?” she demanded, swinging the van violently onto the highway and rocketing past a road hauler rather than brake and fit in behind it. He didn’t bother to reply, hanging onto the seat for dear life as she manoeuvred into the fast lane and headed out of the City towards the stadium.

  To distract himself from the abuse of his van, Kyle ran over in his mind what he knew about the old stadium; it had been a top class sports arena not too long ago, but it had fallen into ruin after being abandoned. It would probably seem odd to out-of-towners that such a valuable piece of property had just been left to go to ruin without any attempt to re-develop it. You had to be a local to understand. The urban legends surrounding it were many and varied. Many centred around it being haunted; but by who, or what, was hotly debated. Some said dead sportstars, or a group of cheerleaders who’d died under the stands, and some were convinced it was an army of long-dead warriors or soldiers. Other urban legends claimed the place was cursed, and yet others said it was protected by aliens from another planet; but the one thing all the stories agreed on was that it was best to stay the hell away from it. Teenagers still dared each other to spend a night in it, and the so-called “Satan Worshippers” gathered to practice dark rituals (fortunately most of these didn’t actually have a clue what they were doing), and it was sometim
es used by drug lords and other criminals to conduct illicit business, but not as often as an outsider might expect. The police made a token effort to keep people out of it, but they rarely patrolled it anymore, most lawful citizens stayed away from it in any case.

  The truth of the matter was known only to a select few; those who were Magi by birth and those who were trusted by the Magi High Council. The stadium had been built over an area where an unusual number of strong ley lines merged before fanning out again into individual streams. This convergence caused a pool of supernatural energy to build-up below ground until its effects could be felt even above the surface of the earth. The power manifested itself in bizarre phenomena at the stadium. It began with freak accidents and mysterious occurrences during initial construction. The Council of Magi tried to have the construction suspended, even claiming it was being built on an ancient burial ground to get the land owners to build elsewhere, but the construction went on as planned. Once opened, the stadium suffered one disaster after another; stands collapsed, the electricity was off more than it was on, kitchens caught fire, showers turned themselves on and off, and the injury stats for athletes were astronomical. Within months teams refused to play there, staff refused to work there and contractors refused to keep repairing things. Two years after it opened, the stadium was abandoned. The only things still being maintained were the security lights, which were supposed to enable police to patrol it at night. There were eight foot security fences surrounding the perimeter of the stadium, but vandals, drug dealers and teenagers had long since cut holes in the fencing, so the place was essentially open to anyone who wanted to get inside. Tonight Byron; their boss and head honcho at the SMV, aka the Societas Malus Venatori, would’ve made sure that a police patrol, including one of their covert team members, would do a sweep of the place and clear out anyone loitering. The place would be deserted tonight. At least until the Demons turned up.