Stranger at the Hell Gate (8 page)

"Him?" Jagger shook his head. "Who?"

"Acheron."

Jagger spun to look over his shoulder but Sonya grabbed his arms.

"Focus! Don't let this all be in vain!" She raised his wrist, his rune sword still in his grasp. She took the flat of the blade between both palms and swiped it, from hilt to point, leaving a pearlescent glow upon the edge. The light pulsed gently.

The sword hummed in his hand.

"I will mask your presence. He will not sense you. This is your split second of advantage. You must strike. You have to do what I failed to do."

The portal widened, a cold light emanating, a swirl of mist hovering over its surface. Sonya squeezed his arms, taking back his attention. "You have only this one chance. We will have time. Not now, but someday. I promise. We will have time again and we'll have a future. All of us."

She staggered backwards a step. The portal appeared to be pulling her.

"Sonya!"

"No, Jag. I have to go or else…that bad thing I knew was coming would actually happen. It's him, Jagger. Acheron will succeed if you fail."

A crash sounded distantly, a slight tremor in the floor.

"That's him. Do it, Jagger. You have to do it."

She slipped out of his grasp entirely as the portal pulled her. The mist seemed to reach for her.

"Sunny. I…"

"I know." She reached for his face, drawing him to her for a gentle kiss. "And I promise. We will be together again."

Sonya kissed him again, sending a cool tingle over him. The same glow that had covered the sword now pulsed over his skin. She pressed the shotgun into his empty hand. "It's all up to you."

The portal yawned and surged forward. She raised her hand in farewell, other hand cupping her middle—she smiled—

A fist of light emerged, grabbing her and pulling her in before the gateway slammed shut. The energy coiled and twisted like a tiny tornado, spiraling down to the floor and condensing into a flicker.
Gone.

The air settled when the portal closed, and the room fell silent and still. Crypts held more breath than this.

Her image, a silhouette of red flare glare and white portal light, still burned on his retinas. Her condition was obvious.

That's why the crystal lit. She's carrying the blood of Tallon. My blood.

Pounding sounded again, this time closer. Jagger sprang back against the wall moments before the door flew open.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, sweetheart." A tall, slender man, dressed completely in black, stepped into the room. He pushed back his cowl hood revealing a slick of silver hair and a gleam of blood red eyes. "Game over."

DEMONS

Jagger held his breath. How long has it been since he looked into that face?

Acheron paced a circle, hand outstretched. "Come on, now, honey. I'm tired of running after you. And if I'm tired, I know you gotta be dragging your ass. Let's just agree to disagree, and I'll kill you. Get it all over with."

Jagger shouldered the gun's strap and slid along the wall behind Acheron.

"Of course, maybe you just wanna play a different game. Is that it? I know you like my type, doll. I can give you what you want. Just come out. I can feel you in here."

Filled with a white hot rage that had nothing to do with his demon blood, Jagger raised the sword and pushed away from the wall. He lunged toward his brother, putting all his strength into the blow.

Acheron turned a moment before impact. Their eyes connected as the point of the blade pierced the dark brother's chest. Caught off guard by the blow, he staggered back against the wall. The sword travelled through Acheron and penetrated the rotting wood.

Acheron dropped his head backwards against the wall, howling with laughter.

Jagger backed away.

Acheron clapped his hands, the hilt of the sword snagging his sleeve. "Jag! How the hell are ya, bro? I should have guessed you'd be here. She's a sweet thing. No wonder you can't stay away from her."

Jagger swung his fist in a tight arc, rocking Acheron's head. "Don't talk about her."

Acheron laughed again and spit a mouthful of blood. It stained his sharp grin, teeth tinged crimson.

"Come on, bro. Let's settle this like real men. Or, whatever you'd call us. Just—" He spread his arms wide. A thin wisp of smoke curled up from the edge of his wound. "Get this thing out of me. It itches."

Jagger growled. "Do you know what you've done? To me? To this world? That damnable hell gate—"

"As if there's any other kind," Acheron interrupted with a bloody grin.

"—you've done nothing but bring wave after wave of demons into this world and for what?"

"To keep you in business?" Acheron shrugged slightly. Hard to do when you're pinned to the wall. "You make serious coin, and I've never asked for a cut. No need to thank me."

"No. You keep me in agony. I can't go a day without remembering what I am because of you."

"It's what family's for. Now, let me off this sword. When I pictured our reunion, it involved less talking and more fighting." Acheron pushed away from the wall an inch, then two. The sword remained rooted in the wall. "This is cheap, even for you."

"You've done enough damage. To me, to these humans, to this entire plane. It ends tonight, Acheron."

"It will never end, brother."

"Oh, yes, it will." Jagger stepped back and shrugged the gun strap off his shoulder, catching the stock in his hand. He leveled the barrels at Acheron's head, staring down the sights at his brother. Wisps of demon shot vapors wafted from the end of the gun.

"Really? A gun?" Acheron sniffed at the hair before giving a low whistle of admiration. "Hey, now. That's got premium demon bane in there. Harsh shit, bro, even for you. Bet that stung when you loaded it."

"Not as much as it'll sting you."

"Yeah, but that's all it'll do. You forget who's got my back. I'm not your average half-breed anymore."

"You're not? Shit, bad news for me." Jagger dropped the barrels and fired at Acheron's stomach.

Acheron screamed with hell fury as the demon shot tore through his abdomen. His entrails spilled out of his body, twisted black ropes gleaming and twitching as the poison chewed its way through his flesh.

"Oh, wait. Bad news for you." Jagger tossed the gun aside. "You would have stood a chance if you didn't let your humanity rot away."

Acheron threw his head back, panting through clenched teeth. A rivulet of blood dripped from his lips. "You cannot kill me. But I can still kill you."

He grunted with effort, teeth bared. His flesh rolled, moving like fluid over his bones as his body shifted. Skin blackened as bony ridges sprouted from his forehead. Acheron's voice deepened into guttural growls as his throat changed. He was taking on a demon's form.

Acheron grabbed the hilt of the sword and pushed. The blade scraped in the wall. He'd barely budged it, but it moved.

"And then I'm going to kill her." Another scraping sound. Horns pierced the flesh of his forehead, spiraling outward. Long teeth crowded his mouth "And then I'm going to rip that baby out of her gutsss, and I'm going to take him to Hell with me. Uncle Acheron will make sssure he getsss a proper education."

Fury made Jagger's mind go completely blank. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass orb. Its contents glowed, milky white and swirly. He raised it so Acheron could see it.

Acheron gaped, cockiness forgotten. "You wouldn't dare. We are brothersss. We are of the sssame ssseed."

"Don't have a choice."

"It'll dessstroy you, too." Acheron grasped the hilt and tugged, hissing and snatching his clawed hand away. "Don't be ssstupid."

"Even if it means we both go, it's better than you staying." Jagger bit down on the cork and yanked it out. Light erupted from the neck, spilling upward in a rush of windy sound. "You killed our mother, Acheron. It's time I return the favor."

Jagger hauled back the hand gripping the bottle. The contents spilled on his hand, burning his flesh. Steam rose from the wounds.

The scalding pain bolstered his conviction. If it burned him—and he was half human—what would it do to a man whose heart ran backwards?

With a scream, he threw the bottle at Acheron.

The orb hit him on the chest, smashing in a wet shower of broken glass. The holy water burned through his clothes. Acheron's torso began to smolder, his howls of terror and pain drowned out only by the sound of redemption—the wind and the light a force that Jagger never got used to witnessing.

Jagger sank to his knees, clutching his hand, watching the Holy Water eradicate his demon-born brother. It was a slow, stinking process but, when it was over, all that remained was a pile of singed black rags.

Acheron was gone.

Jagger hung his head. Although he'd always hoped that some part of Acheron could be saved, he knew Acheron had never claimed his human side the way Jagger had.

If only.

He closed his eyes and pressed his wounded finger to the scar over his heart, remembering his mother.

"I'm sorry," he said into the empty room. "I wanted it to be different. I didn't—please, mother. Ask Him to be merciful. To him…and to me."

After a moment, he pushed to his feet and yanked his sword out of the wall. Scanning the room, he saw a tiny spark of light on the floor near the place Sonya had opened the portal.

Stooping, he saw it was the crystal she'd carried. It was intact once more. He picked it up, palmed it, felt the heat it emitted warm his palm. It felt like a promise.

He stowed it in a pocket of his leather duster. Without as much a glance over his shoulder, Jagger left the room.

It was finally time to go home.

When he shouldered open the front door, Enzo nearly fell out of his chair.

"Ionis! Get over here now!" He dropped the phone and jumped up to clap Jagger on the back. "You're back! I thought I'd lost you for good."

Jagger pushed off the enthusiastic embrace and grinned.

"Yeah, well." He unzipped his pocket and pulled out Sonya's crystal. "I brought you a souvenir. That way you can find me when I get lost again."

Enzo took the proffered gem, glancing at it briefly before setting it on the desk. "So. You found her. Why didn't she come back with you?"

"She needs time to recuperate."

Enzo looked thoughtful. "But she's a healer."

"She's got a lot to work on. Anyway." Jagger gestured around the room which was crowded with cardboard boxes. A banner spread across the couch read
LUCKY DEVIL SECURITY
. "What's going on here?"

The agent barked out a short laugh. "Like you don't already know. The hell gate is closed, man. We've been put out of business. Ionis has resorted to working personal detail for the mayor. He hates it."

"So would I." A chill ran down Jagger's neck and he shivered. "I don't trust politicians."

"But you'd slay demons?"

"Them, I trust. They always act the way you think they will. Predictable and trustworthy, every single time."

Enzo crossed his arms.

"Yeah, well, there's going to be a shortage of honest work around here for a while. Good thing you saved your coin. Nonetheless." He slapped Jagger on the shoulder once more. "Glad to have you back. You look starved. Can I get you something? A pizza? I heard some ginger chick is driving delivery now."

"Maybe later. I want to lay down a while. My ass is dragging."

"No problem. I'll get a couple trays and keep 'em warm." He peered up into Jagger's face. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired."

"That's why I'm wondering. You don't lay down often."

Jagger spied the magic chalk that had dropped into Enzo's hand. Really? The witch was going to truth-spell him? "Put the effing chalk away. It's really me, and I'm really not in the mood."

"You gotta admit—it's not like you."

"I'm ready for a change." Jagger rubbed his hair back. "Call me down if anything comes up."

He didn't think anything would, not for a while. Acheron's final hell gate was closed. Hope for this world—and for Jagger himself—had been restored. He was counting on things to be quiet for a while.

Until Sunny returned with their child.

A family?
Jagger scratched his head and grinned. He spent his entire life cursing his wretched lack of a real family and suddenly…well, he never thought he deserved anything he didn't earn. That child was her gift—one he never expected.

Jagger opened the door to the second floor and trudged up the stairs, hoping that the bed was still made. Would the pillow still smell like her? He looked forward to falling asleep in that bed and had a feeling that, if he dreamed, he wouldn't mind.

He was right.

For the first time in Jagger's life, Acheron didn't haunt his dreams. He was truly dead and gone. Jagger slipped deeper into sleep, floating in the dream world and feeling a lifetime of worry slip away, layer by layer.

Sonya, dream-thin and glowing with ephemeral warmth, leaned close and kissed him, feather soft, whispering her promise again.

Jagger smiled and turned over in his sleep, hugging the pillow closer. Until they met again, he'd be satisfied to dream.

A word about the author...

Author Ash Krafton is a speculative fiction writer from northeast Pennsylvania. She is best known for her urban fantasy Demimonde series, which began with the debut
Bleeding Hearts
. Ms. Krafton also writes short fiction and poetry; one of her pieces has even been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.

She frequently blogs at

http://ash-krafton.blogspot.com

as well as

The QueryTracker Blog at

http://querytracker.blogspot.com
.

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