She didn’t ask about the distinction. “I’m guessing the hellhounds can take down wolves.”
“I’m thinking yes.”
“But they didn’t. Why?”
“I think Jinx should be the one to tell you that. Let’s just concentrate on him for now, okay?”
“Is this how you all live, all the time?” she asked. “Or is it worse now because of me?”
“You don’t want me to answer that. No matter how I do . . .” He trailed off and she supposed he was right. Then again, they all lived with something. Rogue was as worried as she was—he couldn’t hide the anger and fear and she decided she loved him for that alone. The fact that he was related to the wolf she’d fallen in love with made it that much easier.
“I might want you to answer that for me when all of this is through,” she told him truthfully. “For now . . . Jinx.”
He gave her a small smile and nodded. “For now, Jinx.”
He smelled the hellhounds, heard their paws stamping and swore the ground was moving underneath him. He struggled to get up, to move away from them but they drew closer. Followed him. Worshipped him. Wanted him to run with them and all he wanted was to escape.
Jinx’s eyes opened with a start and he nearly sprang from the bed. Caught himself before he toppled over, because he was all twisted in the blankets and there were no hellhounds here, just wolves and a vamp and he was safe. For now.
He blinked a few times and saw Rogue’s form standing facing the window in the dark. Heard Gillian’s restless footsteps outside the partially opened door. Scented Jez, who was hopefully ordering Chinese food, because he heard his own stomach growl.
A good sign.
“Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” Rogue said without turning around.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice still groggy.
“I don’t know if I’m okay. Might not ever be again,” Rogue said honestly.
“You shouldn’t have come with me the other night.”
“It’s what I’m supposed to do, Jinx. Cut the guilt shit.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come back here with me tonight.”
“Didn’t exactly have a choice. It’s not like Rift doesn’t know where I am.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Enough, to Vice. Rifter overheard some of it, about how the hellhounds protect you.” He leaned back, the bottle of Johnny Walker Green balanced on his thigh, half full. He took two more long drinks, nearly draining the bottle before he said, “What the hell are we going to do about this, brother?”
Jinx stared out the window. “What am I going to tell Gillian?”
“The truth.”
“I don’t even know what that is anymore.” He groaned in frustration. “How the hell are we going to get rid of them?”
“I think I know a way,” Rogue said.
“Well, come on—I’m listening.”
Rogue crossed his arms and said, “We can’t open purgatory again—can’t risk it. But we can banish the monsters to hell.”
“They won’t just go,” Jinx pointed out.
“No, but they might follow. If you get the prayer done at the right time, I can lead them into hell.”
Jinx stared at Rogue, waiting for the joke. None came. He opened his mouth, then closed it, because what the hell was he supposed to say? Besides “No way in hell.”
“Nice pun.”
“You know what I mean. Even if that would work, you’re not doing it.”
“Maybe you’re just jealous that I could be, like, a king there.”
“I would kill you if I could,” Jinx muttered.
“We can’t keep trusting hellhounds,” Rogue said. “I know it will pain you to give up your king status.”
“Screw you.”
“That’s better. I hate being treated like glass.”
“I’ll beat the shit out of you if it makes you stop talking about going into hell.”
“I’m there, Jinx. Location isn’t much more than a state of mind.”
“I’ll sacrifice myself before I let that happen.”
“That would be stupid. You have a mate.”
“I’m not having this discussion now.”
“Something’s got to happen soon. Very soon,” Rogue warned him, and Jinx planned on ignoring his twin and his stupid, stupid suggestion for as long as possible.
After what seemed like forever, Rogue called to her and Gillian left Jez eating moo shu pork.
“Is he all right?”
“He’s up. He wants to see you.” Rogue slid past her and she hesitated for a brief moment. “Don’t be scared of him. He’d die if you felt like that.”
“I could never be scared of him. Of any of you,” she whispered.
“Except me, right, darlin’? Because I’m the big bad scary vampire,” Jez called through the pancake he was eating delicately with chopsticks.
“Yes, Jez. I’m terrified,” she said, went into the bedroom as Rogue chuckled. She closed the door behind her and went toward Jinx, not sure if he was going to be angry or not for the way she’d gotten in between him and Rifter.
He wasn’t. He leaned back against his pillows as though drained, patted the bed next to him for her to join him. She did and he started with, “I’m sorry. Rifter and I are going through a difficult time. I didn’t mean to put you in the middle.”
“You didn’t. I did.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
She sat on edge of the bed, legs dangling. He reached out to run a hand along her thigh. “What did you think of Stray and Killian?”
“I like them. It makes me feel better that not everyone from my pack is an asshole.”
“You could still meet them, if you wanted to. Sometimes people need to see where they came from with their own eyes.”
“I don’t want that. And obviously, I have nothing to offer them.”
“You’re a Dire,” he told her, like that meant everything, and maybe it should, but she couldn’t accept it yet.
“They didn’t want me.”
“That hasn’t been proven, but no matter what, we do. I do.”
She wanted to trust that. “Why would my own pack disown me?” It felt so right to say that word and for the first time in forever, no one corrected her. “Why abandon me? They must’ve felt something was off.”
“Dires don’t let their own go.”
“They let Stray and Kill.”
He sighed. “Different circumstances. You were left as an infant. They wouldn’t have known if you had an ability yet. There are no prophecies about you.”
“How about an unwanted pregnancy?”
“Not the same thing in the wolf world. Mistakes happen, children aren’t punished for that,” he told her. “But the thing is, a Dire’s not able to give birth till she’s shifted. So none of it makes sense unless you were taken.”
“Like stolen or kidnapped?”
“Maybe. And it’s not like those Dires could go to the police. Tracking you would’ve proved too risky.”
She wasn’t buying it. Something fierce and primal inside of her told her she’d track her missing child to hell
