Wrong Side of Hell (League of Guardians 0.50)

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.”