The demon made a popping sound that had the hairs on her nape lifting. She jerked around as it stomped closer, claws scraping the fridge, leaving huge gouges in its path, tentacles swinging wildly.
No time to think. Try something… anything.
There was only one place she’d seen any loose soil at all since coming into this goddamn house. Oh, God! Why had it come to this?
Nervous energy tingled through her, gathering in her toes. Without thinking, she snatched the bowl, then rushed around the other side of the portal and faced the front.
No hesitation, despite her heart banging into her rib cage, ready to break free. Her head spun, nausea surging through her in waves. She tucked the bowl under her shirt. “Please let this work.”
For Gunn, Henry, and Nora!
She hurled herself into the darkened mouth of Hell, her body tense.
Something tugged on her hair, yanking her backward. She flung one arm out for balance, the other clasping the bowl to her stomach. She smacked the edge of the portal with her butt, the agony slicing her insides, her hand pulling her hair to free herself. Never in a billion years did she think she’d fight a monster to get into Hell. Because that was what her life had come down to.
The demon hovered above her, a black mouth opening, fangs extending.
Holy shit!
Death flashed before her eyes, the image of her being ripped apart by those knife-like fangs, and the thought reminded her of her own weapon. She bent her knee, tucked a heel against her butt, and reached for her ankle. With a swipe, she retrieved the blade that she carried everywhere and had empowered with protection at home. She jammed it upward, stabbing the underside of the demon’s chin, the action creating a slurping sound. She drove it all the way inside.
Tentacles beat the air, catching her on the face and all over her body. She cowered, covering her head, as each sting had her crying out. The monster stumbled backward, prying her blade free.
Time to get up. She dove into the pits of Hell without a hint of hesitation.
Choosing between facing off with a demon and entering Hell, the odds of survival were close to zero no matter which way she went. But at least this way she’d save Henry and Nora. And just maybe she’d see Gunn one more time.
It was the craziest stunt she’d ever pulled, and fear spiked in her chest. Freefalling through the darkness, in no time she hit the ground with a splat on her back onto a thick layer of dried leaves, which cushioned her fall. Every damn thing hurt, even her pinkie toes. She winced and pulled out the bowl from under her top, bits of the contents stuck to the fabric.
On her feet, she stumbled on jelly legs. The familiar inferno consumed her, and she heaved each breath, hating that she’d used the word “familiar” to describe Hell. At least this time she hadn’t landed in a heap of body parts, which lay several feet away, along with the table from Henry and Nora’s kitchen.
She whirled around, surveying the dead, gnarled trees reflecting an orange glow from the fiery skies. “Gunn. Where are you?”
No reply.
She fell to her knees at the base of a weird-ass-shaped tree and set her bowl down. With a dead branch, she dug into the dried soil, but it snapped in half, crumbling in her fingers. So, with a sharp rock, she plowed the ground. When she’d dug a hole at least a foot deep, she tossed the remnants of her reversal spell inside and filled the grave. Okay. After a quick check to ensure nothing was sneaking up on her, she closed her eyes and concentrated, while her palms hovered inches above the burial.
“I take away the hex placed on the house. I undo what has been done. All should return to normal. As a last token, I offer you a drink.” She patted the ground, then snapped open her eyes. “Hell, no.” She’d forgotten the water!
The earlier strangulation returned, the one where her head danced. “Why do I keep making mistakes?” Saliva wouldn’t work; the water had to be untainted. The surrounding forest was decayed and brittle. Maybe if she found a creek. She broke into a run to where she’d seen the castle on the mountain and rivers during her last visit. If she got out alive, she never wanted to face a demon again. Sitting behind a desk and creating hexes to demolish them sounded magnificent.
Five minutes into her run, the distinct grunt of a dog reached her.
She numbed and halted, ducking behind a tree. Several yards away, Gunn ran through the woods, darting across her path. His T-shirt was half torn off him and blood smeared his chest. Three dark figures pursued him, and she gasped.
“Gunn!” She waved a hand in the air.
He turned and careened in her direction. “Run! Run!” Desperation crammed his widened gaze.
She did just that and when he reached her, he blurted, “We’re in so much fucked-up shit!”
Her feet slipped on the dried leaves as she rounded a trunk, a sharp sting coiling in her ankle. Gunn caught her arms and steadied her. Run faster.
Each footfall sent a jarring shot of pain to her ankle. Failure wasn’t an option, not when the price to pay involved losing her soul. There had to be a way out.
Behind them, the hellhounds panted.
Her breaths came out in small spurts, burning and nervous. “I need water for the counter-hex.”
Gunn didn’t say a word and instead fiddled with something on his belt, then handed her a small vial of holy water. “My last one.”
Her lungs pumping as they ran, she led them back toward where she’d cast the spell.
