To Hell and Back (Hellcat Series Book 4) Read online

  To Hell and Back

  (Hellcat Series Book 4)

  by

  Sharon Hannaford

  COPYRIGHT

  To Hell and Back (Hellcat Series Book 4)

  Sharon Hannaford

  Copyright © 2014 by Sharon Hannaford

  Cover Artwork by Erin Kuhle

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved

  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.

  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

  For Dad, who me taught that a girl’s place in the world is any damn place she wants it to be.

  And Mom, who desperately tried to add the feminine touches.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Tim, Jacqui, Carley, Pauline, Erin, friends, family and readers.

  You know what you did, and I love ya!

  G, Rob and Ash; in the end, every word is for you.

  PROLOGUE

  A dusty, eight-armed candelabra made a valiant attempt to fight off the library’s stygian atmosphere. This private library would be considered large by modern standards, but for a turn-of-the-century mansion it wasn’t unusual. Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, and books crowded every shelf, vying for space, crammed into every nook and protruding from every cranny. The short flight of wooden stairs showed decades of wear from countless booted feet, and the overstuffed, leather-covered chairs boasted shiny patches where innumerable elbows and heads had rested. Small tables dotted with reading lamps and open books took up any available space on the dark, virtually threadbare carpet.

  In a chair near the centre of the room sat a grey-haired man, a tobacco pipe between his lips, tendrils of blue-grey smoke drifting towards the dark wood ceiling. Another man, his hair tending more to white than grey, paced the length of the far bookshelf. The fluidity of his gait belied his apparent age.

  “Can it be true, Deimos?” the pacing man asked. “Are our years of searching over?”

  “Yes, old friend, all the signs are there,” the seated man confirmed. “And I feel it in my bones.”

  “But we must tread carefully. You know it will be exceptionally well protected.” The pacing man stopped and turned to his companion.

  “Of course,” the grey-haired man agreed, “we’ve always known it would be. And yet, just as we find it, we are also gifted with the key to our success. The gods are with us; it is our time.”

  “We have to train her as quickly as we can.” The white-haired man resumed his pacing.

  “But it will take years just to get her to the level of Adept. These things can’t be hurried, Phobos.” The seated man removed the pipe from his lips, placing it carefully in the wooden holder on the table beside him.

  “They have to be, Deimos, you know it as well as I.” Phobos had turned again, his eyes fierce in his aged face. “We don’t have years left. The spells are not nearly as effective as they used to be, no matter how powerful the blood. Turning back the clock with our magic alone is no longer enough to keep the cold hand of death from our door.” Silence hung in the room.

  “You’ve seen and tested her; how far can we push her?” Deimos finally asked.

  “She is strong, but bursting with her own self-importance, undisciplined and completely untrained in our ways. She will take some handling, and we will have to push her hard. Gemini can provide the finesse and bolster her strength; with them we should be able to manipulate her talent to work as we need it to. With the army she can bring through the veil, nothing can stand against us. Once we have what we need, we can take all the time we need to train her to her full potential, and by then she shall be ours completely.” Both men fell to stillness as they contemplated their next move.

  “Who do we send to find it, confirm it is what we seek?” the white-haired Elder finally asked. “You know my concerns about Gemini. They are far too unpredictable for my liking. It is only a matter of time before they consider usurping us.”

  “They aren’t strong enough yet, and once the Source is ours to control, no one will ever be strong enough to supplant us.” The Elder’s eyes gleamed with something sinister.

  “Yet another reason not to delay,” Elder Phobos pointed out.

  “Yes,” the other agreed. “Then we start her training tomorrow. First she must be taught to shield against the Oracles. If they can see our endeavours, then not even the gods can guarantee our success.”

  “I concur. And we send Gemini for our confirmation. There is no one else; we must trust our leash for a few more weeks.” Elder Phobos stopped at a table laid with a decanter of dark, ruby liquid and poured two glasses, handing one to the other Elder. Their eyes met as they raised the glasses in a toast and downed the contents.

  CHAPTER 1

  Gabi was utterly spent, her breaths coming in ragged gasps; a fine sheen of perspiration glazed her skin. In the dark above her, a large, predatory shape loomed. She simply didn’t have the energy to fend him off any longer.

  “Lord and Lady, Julius, enough,” she panted. “You’re going to kill me.”

  A smug chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Is my lioness begging for mercy?” he asked in a wickedly sensual voice.

  “Yes,” Gabi gasped, “I can’t take any more.”

  “That doesn’t sound much like begging to me,” he purred. “I seem to remember the challenge being that I couldn’t make you beg for mercy. Demanding mercy won’t fulfil the challenge requirements. I think I shall have to try a little harder.”

  “No,” Gabi wheezed, laughing and trying to squirm away from him with what little energy she could dredge up. He pinned her to the silk sheet using the weight of his body, brushed a lush auburn curl from her shoulder, and began to lick a trail from her ear down to her taut, traitorous nipples. He ignored her feeble attempt to pound on his back with her fists. “Okay, okay, I beg for mercy,” she cried. “You win.” She’d known better than to challenge him, but what a pleasurable way to be forced to admit defeat. She huffed in relief as he ended his sensual assault with a lingering kiss.

  “Hmm, and what will be my prize for winning, I wonder,” he mused.

  “I’m still alive enough to repay you for this,” she retaliated, still panting. “And repay you I will.” She had every intention of making him beg for the same mercy she’d just been forced to plead for. She would have her revenge.

  “Promises, promises,” he purred, accepting the challenge with a devilish glint in his gold-rimmed, sapphire blue eyes. She laced her fingers into his tousled dark blond hair, and he finally gave in to her demands, driving into her, filling her to the core with hard, rhythmic thrusts. Her hips rose to meet his as she dragged his head down to the soft junction of her neck and shoulder. With a raggedly indrawn breath he opened his mouth and grazed her skin with the point of one unnaturally long canine. Gabi felt the sheet in her hand rip as she fought for some remnant of control, meeting his ever-quickening pace and throwing her head back to give him better access to her throat. The fleeting pain as his fangs pierced her skin was her undoing; she shattered, her orgasm obliterating every other thought in her mind.

  “Shower?” he asked when he’d recovered sufficiently to pull away from her a little, enough that she could admire the muscles that sculpted his chest in the firelight. His shoulders were broad and incredibly well toned, though his build said athlete rather than bodybuilder; his length dwarfed her own five and three-quarter feet. She w
asn’t sure she’d ever get over the thrill of seeing and touching his body, a body that would never change, no matter how long he survived. She was also fairly sure she wouldn’t be able to walk for a week, never mind make it to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. She eyed her quickly fading handiwork across his body; while the scratch marks down his back and arms were already healing, the bruising on her neck would take a little longer. She may be something more than human, but her healing wasn’t as good as her Vampire Consort’s was.

  “In a few minutes,” she said between heavy breaths. He moved away from her to lie on his side, his head propped up on one arm. He pulled on her arm to roll her over onto her stomach. She began to protest.

  “Relax, Lea.” He chuckled. “I’ll be good, I swear.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” she muttered. As she settled against the torn sheet, he began to massage her back, gently working on knots and stiffness with the confidence of a trained masseuse. Before long his fingers brushed over the jagged scar beneath her right shoulder blade. His cool lips touched the marred skin, and she shivered.

  “Tell me,” he said simply. They’d been here once before, and she hadn’t been ready to share then. In truth, she’d never fully shared the details of that particular scar with anyone. Several people knew the basic facts; her best friend, Kyle, and Byron, the man she considered her second father, had been the ones to find her afterwards and stop her bleeding out. They’d rushed her to Ian, Byron’s ER doctor son, who put her back together, physically at least. Rose had been employed to take care of her and do the housekeeping while she recovered, and the SMV Council and her fellow Hunters had been informed of why she was off duty for so long, but she’d never told anyone the story in its entirety before.

  Julius waited patiently, his hands still unhurriedly working on the tension in her back and neck. She wondered how he would take the gory details. He had a strong propensity for protectiveness where she was concerned, though he was learning to control it, as much as a two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old Master Vampire could control that sort of thing. Maybe it was time, for both of them.

  “I was younger, cockier. Full of myself, overflowing with faith in my incredible capabilities,” she finally began, folding her arms under her head and resting one cheek on them, figuring it would be easier if she wasn’t looking directly at him. “There’d been a spate of vicious Vampire attacks, mostly in the red-light quarter, attacks on prostitutes and homeless or vulnerable teenage girls. It seemed like the work of a Junkie—what we call the Vamps who get hooked on adrenalin-laced blood,” she clarified for Julius’s benefit.

  He stayed silent, his fingers working calmly on her lower back, but she knew he was absorbing every word.

  “We had a plan worked out. As the only girl on the team, I was the bait, of course. It took a few nights for them to bite, but we’d underestimated how many were involved. We had no idea they were working in small packs, attacking several women at the same time, stretching any potential law enforcement thin. As soon as they struck, I should’ve pulled out. We should’ve regrouped and taken on one pack at a time, but, at risk of repeating myself, I was stupid and overconfident.” Gabi could still picture the scene with surreal clarity.

  “There were three of them,” she continued. “Everyone else was busy with two other packs, so I was on my own. Now that I know a little more about Vampires, I think that one of the three was at Master level. He was much faster, much more powerful than any other Vamp I’d ever come across before. Not quite at your level or that of the Princeps, but stronger than any of your Clan members.” Her voice trailed off for a moment, reliving the fight.

  Julius’s hands gentled to a soothing rub, and finally he spoke. “You don’t have to go back there,” he told her, turning her onto her side so he could study her face.

  She didn’t meet his gaze, but she captured his free hand and pressed it to her cheek. His proximity, the touch of his skin to hers, calmed her.

  “I held my own for a few minutes, but then I realised they were just toying with me.” Yes, it was time to purge the story from her memory. “They’d lured me into a disused factory on the lower east side, a long way from the rest of the Hunters and any kind of rescue. Once I knew I was outgunned, prudence slapped me in the face and told me to run, but it was too late. They cornered me on one of the upper levels of the factory, taunting me for being a hypocrite; having seen my not-terribly-human moves, they assumed I was hyped up on Vamp blood. I got in a few blows and injured one of them. What happened next was both good and terrible.” Her voice had gone thoughtful. “Well, I know it’s good now, but I didn’t at the time.”

  It was the first time she’d considered the attack with the knowledge that she was a Dhampir: nine parts human, one part Vampire. Vampire Holy Grail and most closely guarded secret outside of the actual existence of supernatural beings. Her heritage was the Vampire version of Pandora’s Box. “I went in for the kill on the injured one.”

  Julius had gone deathly still, not even breathing; he didn’t need to breathe, but he usually did out of habit.

  “I think if I hadn’t killed him, they might have toyed with me a while longer and then drunk from me. That wouldn’t have been a good thing.”

  “No.” The word was a low growl. In fact, she’d been ridiculously lucky it was Julius who worked out what she actually was. The power her blood gave to Vampires was something that could easily be used to cause chaos throughout the Vampire community. If Gabi herself, or the knowledge of her creation, fell into the wrong Vampire hands, it could spell the beginning of a massive Vampire war. One that would spill over in the human world and affect every person on the planet.

  “As it turned out,” Gabi continued, “they were pissed at me for dusting their friend. The powerful one threw me through a window onto the road below. If I’d jumped myself, I probably would’ve been all right, but with no control over my fall, I landed badly. I didn’t know it then, but I’d fractured my pelvis and damaged two vertebrae in my back. They jumped down after me and took one of my short swords. They kicked me onto my stomach and stabbed me several times in the back, in the same place I’d stabbed the dead one. I think they were being careful to keep me alive as long as possible.”

  Julius hadn’t moved, but anger poured off of him in waves.

  “Before they could finish me off, Kyle and Byron arrived. The trade-off for letting me play bait was that I carried a GPS tracker. I’d fought with them about it too.” She sighed, smiling ruefully. “It took me nearly two months before I could walk unassisted; if not for Ian and my better-than-human healing, I may never have walked again. It was a valuable lesson, one in humility, a reminder of my human frailty. One that taught me to put my ego in a box when I need to.” She turned her head and kissed Julius’s rigid hand on her shoulder. “But the rest of the time my ego is out and in plain view for all to see,” she said in a sassy tone, trying to lighten the mood.

  Julius breathed deeply, regaining control of his anger. “As you say, it was a lucky thing they never tasted you,” he said, his face unreadable in the dim light and their mental connection suddenly gone fuzzy. He leaned close and kissed her. “Time for that shower.” He scooped her up, carrying her to his luxurious bathroom.

  A knock on the door woke Gabi, Julius was already up and striding towards it, naked but for a towel slung loosely around his hips. Either Julius had called one of his staff for something, or the person on the other side was going to get blasted, she thought drowsily. To her surprise, once the door opened, they spoke quietly. She knew the voice outside the door: Alexander. If Julius’s second in command was disturbing them in Julius’s bedroom, something had to be wrong.

  She concentrated on the mental bond between her and Julius. The link wasn’t exactly mind-reading, mostly it was a sense of the other’s feelings, and if she concentrated, she could send him a mental picture; it seemed to be growing stronger as they spent more time together. She could sense concern and a tinge of annoyance
from him; nothing too serious, then. She released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. After a few brief moments of conversation Julius shut the door, striding back to the bed less quietly than he’d left; her subtle intrusion into his psyche not as subtle as she’d thought.

  “I have to go and deal with the Werewolf Alliance,” he said, kissing her on the tip of her nose before stepping into his dressing room.

  Gabi rose and joined him, kissing his back, and enjoyed his hissed intake of breath as she wormed past him to get to her stash of clothing on the far side. They hadn’t gotten around to making any kind of formal living arrangements yet, instead taking each day as it came, and splitting their time between his place and hers. Leaving clothing and toiletries at each other’s seemed prudent.

  “What kind of midge got up their nose this time?” she asked, glad he didn’t bother ordering her back to sleep. He was learning.

  “A Lone Wolf has been found dead in the Inner City,” he said.

  “So?” Gabi rolled her eyes. “You can’t be responsible for every stray Werewolf who enters the City, can you?”

  The newly formed Werewolf Alliance had seemed like a great idea a few weeks ago when it was first formed. For too many decades the various Packs of the City had been at each other’s throats, each vying for ultimate dominance over the others, but recent threats to the City had taught them that if they unified, they were a real force to be reckoned with. This had led to the idea of a coalition, something that would benefit them all in the case of another threat to the City. The idea was an excellent one, but so far they’d all been acting like insecure teenagers, jumping at their own shadows and trying to legislate far too many rules and regulations, each Pack Leader aiming for the best deal for his own Pack. Julius and her friend Kyle, a Werewolf beholden to none of the Packs and therefore considered impartial, had had their hands full trying to calm overstimulated tempers and stroke egos while also forcing them to pull their heads in.