Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(82)
A split second before she fired off a stun spell, a little boy darted into the street between them. Rose froze to avoid accidently hitting him, and the brief pause cost her a talon to the torso.
Liquid fire shot through her body, buckling her knees. Somewhere in the distance, Julius shouted and the she-demon roared. Rose went airborne, briefly wondering if Bax had carried her away, but then her body crashed with another flare of pain, this one sinking bone-deep.
Rose fought to open her eyes to the chorus of frightened screams. “Ju-Julius…?”
Through hazy vision, she watched Damian’s brother insert himself between the Gryndor and a group of tourists, his human skin melting away. He stood there in his demon form as he shot her a worried glance, but his stroke of bravery wouldn’t be enough.
People ran in chaotic swarms. Kids cried. The Gryndor once again shouted for her mates.
Through dimmed, hazy vision and searing hot pain, Rose summoned her last ounce of Magic and fired off the most powerful stunning spell she could conjure before the darkness wrapped itself around her like a weighted blanket.
* * *
Waiting for paint to dry was more entertaining than staring at his cell phone buried in a large ziplock bag filled with rice, and praying the damn thing dried out.
Jasper and his abrupt-onset skittishness.
The stallion had earned himself field time that morning for good behavior, and even went back to his stall without a problem. But the second Damian let down his guard and turned to hook up his feed bag, the animal reared. He’d narrowly avoided a hoof to the head, but his cell hadn’t been quite as lucky, dropping into a filled water bucket without him realizing until he found it hours later.
All he could do now was hope for a miracle.
The sanctuary phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID, hoping it was the one person who could turn this sucky day around. He’d nearly called her a dozen times since she’d left the sanctuary earlier that morning, and nearly a dozen times, something always got in the way.
But the caller wasn’t Rose.
It was the one person who could sink his mood straight into the pits of hell. Almost literally.
The phone ceased ringing only to start up again two seconds later.
“The answer is no, Jules,” he growled, finally answering. “Hell. No. Find someone else to clean up your mess tonight because I’m not interested.”
“Where the fuck have you been?” Julius’s shout pierced his ear.
“Excuse the hell out of me, but you’re not my keeper. It’s none of your business where I’ve been or—”
“You know what, you’re right. I don’t give a demon’s scaly ass, but yours better get to the Maxwell house in Athens right the fuck now.”
A cold sense of dread flickered up Damian’s spine. Maxwell.
He was alert in an instant. “What happened?”
“One second Rose was kicking serious demonic ass and then…” Julius muttered a curse. “It happened so damn fast. Less than a blink and then … shit, Damian.”
“What. Happened?” He’d already grabbed his keys from the wall hook and was running to his motorcycle. “Start explaining, and with actual words that make fucking sense!”
“It doesn’t look good, man.” Julius’s voice dropped to a near-whisper. Damian could practically see his brother dragging his hand through his hair, a habit he did whenever nerves bested him. “Rose’s sisters and the Prima are working on her right now, but get here, Damian. Quick.”
“Fuck.” Forgoing his helmet, he turned the ignition, his bike roaring to life. “It’ll take me at least an hour to get there.”
“Use the demon portal at my place. I’ll call the staff ahead of time to make sure they let you up.”
Damian cursed. A demon portal … which meant that in order to use it, he needed to let his inner beast resurface, and who knew what the bastard would do once he was given the reins.
Skidding on the rocks as he dropped the phone and peeled out from the sanctuary parking lot, Damian already knew he didn’t care. He’d do whatever was necessary to get to Rose sooner. Julius had nerves of fucking steel, always the optimist even when facing an apocalypse. Him admitting something wasn’t good meant it was a hell of a lot worse.
Damian flew into the city, veering through traffic, blowing lights and disregarding every traffic law. Despite how fast he’d gotten to Julius’s building, it had felt like a lifetime passed.
He’d barely shut off the bike’s engine before the door attendant had the front door open for him, and another with a key card stood by the elevator that would take him up to his brother’s penthouse.
Damian’s stride didn’t break once as he headed up to the rooftop greenhouse and to the stone archway nestled in the garden’s center. Chest heaving, he stood in front of the ancient Hell Stones, their power radiating in waves strong enough to nearly buckle his knees.
The gateway didn’t look like much to the naked eye, just a stumble of stacked stones in varying shades of gray and red, but add a dash of demon blood, a picture-perfect mental image, and voilà. Instant portal to anywhere your heart desired.
Damian’s desired to lay eyes on a certain mouthy witch.
“Alright, you ornery bastard,” her murmured to his inner demon. “Let’s do this.”