Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [31]
Find me or we both die.
Hal’s desperate voice clanged through her head, and suddenly, she was in her house, in her bed, and not wherever she’d been in that dream. This time, she didn’t sit around in confusion. She bolted out of bed and ran down the hall to her spare bedroom, where her ancient computer hummed softly. The chair squeaked as she plopped down in it, and then she was hitting Google with a vengeance.
Newland Park Dr. Well, that search turned up about a million results, few of which were helpful, though many popped up as being in York, England. Fingers clicking, she went to Maps, and then typed Newland Park Dr. U.K.
Her heart nearly stopped when a satellite map came on the screen. It was the neighborhood she’d seen. She’d never been to England in her life, but she recognized the street, the houses. Newland Park Drive was long, and she couldn’t zoom in enough to pinpoint the house she’d come out of in her dream, but that was definitely the area where she’d been. She wondered if Jeff had dreamed the same thing. Maybe she should call him.
Find me or we both die.
She stared at the screen, her brain repeating the dream that seemed so real. It had to have been real. There was no other way she could have such explicit details about Newland Park Drive in her head.
So either she’d become psychic or she was communicating with a strange dog she didn’t even remember treating.
Who had somehow gotten to England in a matter of hours.
The things that made sense mingled with the impossible, until she felt like her sanity was stretched thin enough to snap.
Find me or we both die.
Six
“Tell me you know where Sestiel is.” Pestilence stood on a bridge that spanned the Inferno River in the Dread region of Sheoul and stared at the scarred hellhound—one of the largest fucking hounds he’d ever seen. Drool hung in a thick rope from its gaping mouth and puddled at its feet. Disgusting.
Serving as translator was a vampire member of the Carceris—demon jailers—who kept kennels of the hounds for tracking demons. He stood perilously close to the edge of the stone bridge, no doubt prepared to leap out of the way of danger if the hound—or Pestilence—decided to not play nice. “Eater of Chaos is still seeking both Sestiel and Ares, as per your agreement.”
Eater of Chaos. Stupid name for a hellhound. Not that Pestilence was going to say anything. He might hate the bastards, but he wasn’t an idiot. He was still vulnerable to their bites, and he wasn’t about to put himself at risk for potentially endless paralyzation and pain.
“Our agreement was that he incapacitate either Ares or Sestiel, and he’s done neither.”
The hellhound snarled, and beneath his enormous paws, the bridge’s basalt slabs began to steam. The creatures were extremely volatile. Even the vamp inched backward.
“Chaos indicates that there’s been a complication.” The vamp shifted his weight a couple of times. “He and his offspring were pursuing Sestiel. The Aegis interrupted…” He frowned. “I’m not sure I’m translating this right, but I think Chaos’s pup was injured, and Sestiel captured him.”
“So that’s how Sestiel is masking himself,” Pestilence mused. “He has himself a hellhound.”
“It appears so. Chaos can’t sense him. But he wants Sestiel’s heart between his jaws. He’ll get a twofer—revenge for his offspring, and Ares’s Seal broken. I think he wants to see Ares ruined as badly as you do.”
Pestilence doubted that, but he’d take what he could get.
“Find Sestiel, you mangy hound,” Pestilence said. “Find him, and when I kill him, we’ll get your kid back.”
The vamp cocked his head, listened, and nodded. “He wants what you promised him.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you have Ares for thirty days.” Pestilence grinned. “He’ll be all yours.”
Pestilence couldn’t think of anything worse. He’d rather spend a year being skinned alive and having his eyes gouged out over and over than spend a single hour being defiled