Wicked Road to Hel (League of Guardians 1)

The woman stopped a few feet from the two men in the street. She was too far away for Declan to hear her words, but her aggressive stance and clenched fists told him she was pissed.

He watched the three of them and then glanced at the house. The vampire was busy. Now would be a good time to slip inside and assess the situation. Was his target here?

“Go,” Ransome whispered, a devilish grin in place. “I’ll keep her busy if our visitors aren’t up to the task.” He laughed softly. “I wouldn’t mind getting closer to that delicious piece of ass.”

For whatever reason, the wolf’s words irritated Declan, but he ignored them and began to draw charms in the air, his fingers flying with ease as the magick inside him flowed.

Though the ward was strong it was no match for him, and less than thirty seconds later he felt the gentle tug and pull as the protection charms evaporated. He should have been through them at once and yet he hesitated.

Declan glanced back once more. The female vampire was extremely animated in the way she talked, her hands moving constantly.

Goddamn but she was like Ana.

A flash of pain sliced through him and he hissed. Where the hell had that thought come from?

“What are you waiting for?” Ransome’s slow drawl cut through his thoughts and Declan gave himself a mental shake. Revisiting the past and the memory of a woman two years dead was never a good thing.

He hopped the fence with ease, his long stride carrying him toward the gallery. Dark shadows lined the roof as he moved closer to the front door.

Declan eyed them carefully, his hands at the ready as the familiar burn of energy lit his fingers. Suddenly the dark erupted into hundreds of sharp teeth and flapping wings.

He raised his hands and reveled in the energy that flew from his fingers. It burned white-hot and the swarm of teeth and wings circled overhead, their cries of rage hitting a pitch that made his ears ring.

The little bastards couldn’t reach him, and their confusion and anger were palpable. He eyed them closely as they continued to swoop about in a frenetic dance. They looked like rabid bats from Hell.

An enraged scream cut through the night and drew his attention. He whirled around and saw Ransome on the move.

One of the men, the vampire, had his hands on the female and they struggled. She deftly broke his hold and kneed him between the legs. His cry of pain echoed in the damp evening air, followed by a growl of fury.

The demon made an odd series of clacking noises, its body already morphing into its true form. It looked like the little vampire was going to have her hands full.

Yet it was the sight beyond that gave him pause. Several forms emerged from the fog and were moving toward them quickly, their bodies jerking in random motions, heads rocking to the side, arms flailing wide. It was unnatural.

They were unnatural. From the smell that drifted on the breeze he was guessing ghouls—the dead arisen.

Normally ghouls were slow and uncoordinated. But these ones were juiced up on some seriously dark shit. They were fast and he had no doubt they’d be dangerous. A powerful necromancer was in the area and it seemed he had business on Prytania Street.

Declan’s night had just ramped from interesting to game on.

The legion of bats overhead flew toward the ghouls in silence, a deadly arc of fury. A few of them circled above Declan. With a flick of his wrist he knocked them hard and sent them flying.

There were no more barriers in place—nothing between him and the door. All he had to do was let himself in.

And still he paused.

The demon was now nearly ten feet in height, its human facade gone and replaced by its true form, which was scaly, slimy, and menacing. It hissed and breathed fire down at the small vampire, yet she stared up at it and yelled, “I’m going to bitch slap that ugly ass of yours all the way back to Hell.”

This time he had no problem hearing her words.

“And then I’m gonna rip your face off, asshole.”

Declan’s blood ran cold. It wasn’t so much the words themselves, but the tone and the defiance that bled through. She was so like Ana, it was eerie.

The rush of emo

tion that accompanied the thought pissed him off. He had no time to go down that path.

Ransome had shifted, and Declan saw the huge werewolf jump toward the demon. If the small vampire was surprised, there was no time to process, as the large group of ghouls was nearly upon them.