Wrong Side of Hell (League of Guardians 0.50)

Bill’s mouth tightened for the briefest moment and Logan knew he’d overstepped with his last statement. He smiled, liking the fact that he managed to get under Askelon’s skin. Score one for the hound.

“She cannot perish. Her future

is hidden in the fabric that binds us all. But know this.” Bill’s nostrils flared as his anger thickened. “She will be protected. I will do everything in my power to keep her safe and make sure she meets her destiny.”

“Seems like a moot point, considering she’s already dead.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed. His face darkened and blurred . . . features shifting until his true self shone through. Gone was the pleasant, middle-aged human. In his stead a powerful, enigmatic creature stood. Two realities converged, and Logan had to admit the little shit’s mojo was impressive.

Bill’s voice vibrated, falling in layers that encircled Logan and filled his head. There was no mistaking. The Seraphim was livid.

“She is not meant to die—not yet. Someone is trying to alter her destiny and I need you to retrieve her for me.”

“She’s not my problem. Find some other dog.”

“Oh, but she is your problem. I need someone who can track her. Someone who knows her scent.” Bill leaned closer, his voice amplified even more. “Someone who’s tasted her soul.”

Logan had had enough. He growled and bared his teeth. “I don’t take orders from you. Not anymore. I don’t know why I ever agreed to it in the first place.”

Bill sighed, grabbed his bag of candy, and helped himself to a generous amount of the gooey mess. “You joined the League because you knew it was the right thing to do. Nothing’s changed.” He chewed and stared up at Logan, his hard eyes and unyielding mouth at odds with the image he portrayed.

“You will do this for me.”

Logan crossed his arms over his chest and spread his legs. The Seraphim was going to have to do a hell of a lot better than that.

Logan reached for the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and dumped the last of it into his glass. “You’ve wasted a trip, old man.” He was dancing on the edge—tossing insults to one of the most powerful creatures in existence—and he didn’t give a shit.

Such was the way of it these days. His stay in the Pit had altered him in more ways than one.

“You will do this because of your vow to the League.” Bill arched a brow. “And because I know your true origins.” The words slid between them—silky, dangerous. Bill’s ace in the hole.

Logan paused, the glass nearly to his lips. His throat tightened and his teeth clenched hard.

“I know who your mother is.”

The glass shattered in Logan’s hand as a snarl erupted from within his chest. In a flash, his fist closed around Bill’s throat and he shoved the Seraphim back onto the bar with such force that the walls shook sending bottles and glasses crashing to the floor.

Logan’s skin shifted and the beast shone through, his eyes morphing to blood red as he stared down at the small man held tight in his grip.

Several long moments passed and eventually Logan pulled back, curses in an ancient tongue flying from his mouth as he stepped away.

He closed his eyes, forced his body to relax, and crooked his head to the side. “Where’s the girl?”

There was a pause.

“Purgatory.”

Logan swore. “I don’t have permission to enter the gray realm, you know that. No hellhound has ever breached it.” He swore again. “And even if I did, there’s no guarantee I will get to her in time or find my way out.”

“This is true.” Bill nodded. “But I have faith in you Logan. I always have.”

Logan clenched his lips together tightly and took a few moments to gather his thoughts. He had no choice and he hated that the little son of a bitch had put him in this situation. Hadn’t he given enough to the fucking League?

He glared at the Seraphim and spoke coldly. “Where’s her body?”

“The Regent Psychiatric Institute in Florida.” At Logan’s snarl, the round man finished quietly. “Morgue.”

The word had barely escaped Bill’s lips and Logan was already gone.