On her next breath, she hit a solid floor, a familiar coldness folding around her.
Someone touched her shoulder. She flinched, her fists flying outward, and she scrambled backward as her sight adjusted to the dark surroundings. The hole she’d come out of no longer existed. She jerked her vision left and right, unsure what was real and what was in her mind.
Gunn kneeled in front of her, concern marring his perfect brow, his lasso in hand. He guided a strand of hair stuck to her lips back to the side of her face and pulled her into an embrace, his arms shaking. “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t ever go anywhere alone. If I lost you…”
“You were terrified?” She pushed herself free. “Did you see that place?” Her words trembled, and she stared down at her arms. She patted her legs, wincing from the stinging pain at the wound on her leg. Her pants had been torn from the knee down, and blood rolled down freely. “Freakin’ hellhound almost made me its dinner.” And had ruined her only business pants.
She wiped the wound with the ripped part of her pants, but blood kept bubbling.
“Got to get that clean to avoid demonic parasites entering your system.” Gunn pulled a vial of what she guessed was holy water from his belt and splashed her wound. It stung like hell, but there was no burning skin, so that was a good sign.
As Gunn sat back on his heels, he focused on Cyra, his jawline twitching. But when a black mist rose up from a corner of the room, she scrambled farther back, dread wrapping around her.
In a flash, the miasma snapped across the room, over their heads, and out the door.
“Shit!” Gunn jumped to his feet and sprinted after the strange apparition.
Shock ricocheted up her spine. Was it the demon that had shoved her into Hell or something else had escaped the portal?
Staggering down the stairs, she limped along the long corridor, leaving a small trail of dotted blood, while the bedroom doors opening and shutting as if applauding the show.
“Gunn?” She hurried downstairs. At the landing, she gasped for air. “Where are you?”
Footfalls came from an adjacent room, and her insides pulled taut. They all had to leave this house. It wasn’t safe. She sucked in each breath, unable to fill her lungs. But when Gunn appeared from around a corner, a loud breath gushed out.
“Fucker is gone,” he said. “No idea where it went.”
That thought alone had her trembling. Sure, being brave sounded easy in her mind, but she’d just visited Hell, so if the demon in the attic had done that to her, what else was it capable of?
Gunn snatched her elbow and drew her away from the living room. He headed toward the still-open front door, which revealed a snow-covered street. White flakes dropped over the landscape… yet her insides twisted into knots. A dog barked in the distance and she flinched, inching closer to Gunn. And there, across the lawn, her sights settled on an old tree, warped and similar to the ones she’d seen with the hellhounds. Her breaths raced.
The memories scalded her mind, and her heart hammered inside her chest. Sickness rose in her throat.
“We’re dealing with major demonic shit here,” Gunn said, wrapping an arm around her waist, holding her, yet his body remained rigid, and, for the first time, she sensed fear from the guy. “Got to say, baby girl, never heard of anyone getting transported into Hell before.”
“You’re not making me feel any better.” Those were the worst words he could have said to her. Being the first drawn into the Underworld wasn’t good in any way. And right then her breakfast decided to make a show. She dashed outside and decorated Henry’s lawn with the contents of her stomach.
Chapter 5
Gunn
When Gunn had received a call from Chase earlier that morning, he’d jumped at the idea of checking up on Cyra. He pictured getting a moment alone with her for a real conversation. Finding out what she loved to eat for breakfast, if she was an early riser, what her favorite book was. He craved to learn more about her. Anything other than just the snippets of information he’d gained from her brother. He wanted to watch a comedy with her and hear her laugh. The small things in a relationship he’d missed over the years. Something about Cyra made him want to create those moments together with her. That was as far as his thoughts had extended, but now he felt as if a noose was tightening around his neck—the pressure to save everyone. The usual routine of eliminating demons passed in a blur in his mind, and instead, his head bellowed at him about how close he’d come to losing Cyra. Panic throttled his lungs at how fast the danger had spiraled out of control. What if he hadn’t followed her upstairs? Would she be gone forever? And the fault would be his, as he was the experienced demon handler on the scene.
Who knew what she’d come in contact with while in Hell, so after he finished the job at this house, he’d cleanse her thoroughly to be safe.
A loud gasp had Gunn snapping around in the doorway, his pulse skyrocketing. The older woman stood near the staircase, her attention fastened on Cyra as she strolled back inside, wiping her mouth. “You’re bleeding, my dear,” Nora said, pointing to her leg.
Cyra glanced down at the blood running down her calf and into her boot. “It’s nothing.” She wiped the stain with the loose fabric of her pants. “I’ll be fine.”
“No, no. It can get infected,” Nora said. “Come. I’ve got bandages in the bathroom.”
Gunn couldn’t agree more on getting her patched
