Read Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy) for Free Online Page B

now, it was both.
    And bless it, Uncle Luc would respond when I called his name directly. He didn’t always show up, but I’d get a response. A small earthquake, grass dying, dead bird falling from the sky onto my head… something. If he was feeling really frisky, I got a psychic door slammed in my face, sending me stumbling back a step while… he caused an earthquake. Nothing funnier than me falling on my ass, apparently.
    Except… nothing.
    “Something is seriously wrong.” I frowned, staring at the rough gravel.
    “Yeah.” Jezze eased closer. She and Uncle Luc have had an interesting relationship ever since I kicked all the dems out. She thinks he’s the greatest evil uncle ever, but hates him in solidarity. “So, now what?”
    I looked to her, single brow raised. “Watch Bry a little longer?”
    “What are you gonna do?”
    I grinned. “Now, I get dirty.” If Uncle Luc wasn’t coming to me, I’d find my answers another way.
    A quick jog back inside and then I dug through Momma R’s hall closet. I pushed past the winter coats—it’s Florida, but they were cute and on sale—and umbrellas—the more the merrier—and finally reached the pretty bag in the back. Pretty because it held many shiny things, not because the worn leather was actually nice looking.
    A bag didn’t have to be flashy to carry flashy things.
    I unzipped it and pulled my happy-fun-times supplies free. I slipped my sword scabbards into place, the heavy weight of my weapons settling across my shoulders. A belt went around my waist, a couple more blades tucked in there along with a gun in the holster. After the zombies last year, I decided some long-range weaponry would be nice.
    A knife in my boot, a couple more in my jacket, and I was ready to go play in the mud.
    Without another word, I strode from the house and back into the darkness, picking my way through the dense forest that surrounded Momma R’s. The river tinkled in the distance, fresh water that passed right through the witch’s lands. That sound brought other memories forward. Ones that pushed last year’s events back into the present.
    Reminders of the last time someone thought it’d be fun to play with dark magic, to attack me, to hurt those I loved. They were dead now. The demon behind Bry’s illness would be, too.
    The transition off of Momma R’s lands triggered the wards. The magic stroked over my skin, sizzling against my flesh. Now I was free to do what needed to be done.
    I crossed the wide expanse of asphalt, the road completely empty, and headed into the far field. That barren stretch of street represented the outside edge of Orlando limits. I didn’t stop until I was dead center in the grassy, weed-consumed expanse—until I stood in the center of a familiar circle of burned ground.
    It was my space, a piece of land I’d claimed long ago. Over the years, the Earth absorbed some of my innate magic and it made casting blessed easier.
    I tugged a dagger from my belt, my own personal runes etched into the edges of the blade. I lifted my right arm, pumped my fist a few times to get the blood flowing and cut deep into my skin. Blood welled, painting my pale skin red, and I coated the spelled metal in the liquid.
    My wound healed almost instantly—go werewolf blood!—but I’d managed enough to do the job.
    I traced the edges of my circle, digging the knife into the ground and making sure it formed an unending barrier between me and the rest of the world.
    Now, desperate times called for desperate measures, so I tugged on Hell a little, dipping into the first circle a tiny bit. My blade glowed, blood sparking a fiery red, and I knelt on the barren ground.
    Then… I drew a happy face. Magic wielders had to get all fancy with their spell work. I didn’t. My veins had a direct connection to all that fire and brimstone down below.
    I pricked my finger, just pushing a droplet from the tip and letting it fall on the nose of my little sketch.
    Then the magic