Blood and Sin (The Infernari Book 1) Read online

  I chose then to open the door.

  He didn’t see me at first; he was looking for a woman, not a child.

  When he did eventually see me, his face hardened. “Lana—” He grabbed my wrist roughly.

  I started screaming for all I was worth. “I want my dad!” I sobbed through my screams.

  Asher crouched in front of me. “Lana, fucking listen to me. You stop this right now—”

  I stopped wailing long enough to say, “I’m not getting back in that cage of yours.” My words sounded ridiculous through the child’s vocal cords.

  Then I began screaming again.

  His lips thinned. He spoke quickly, his voice a harsh whisper. “I won’t put you back in the cage if you behave—”

  “There a problem here?” A deep voice said from behind Asher. A man stepped up to us. He looked like what the natives called a cowboy. He had friendly eyes, but right now they were boring holes into Asher.

  Asher gave me a hard look, his upper lip twitching in anger. “My daughter’s just throwing a tantrum. Ignore her.” He didn’t bother turning to face the man.

  “She don’t look like your daughter,” he said, spitting to the side, keeping his eyes trained on the hunter.

  “Stepdaughter. You got a problem?” Asher said. And now he did partially turn, loose rocks skittering beneath his boots.

  “Where’s her mother?”

  “In the bathroom, asshole. Is this an interrogation?” Asher stood. “I’m so sick of you racist fucks thinking I’m some sort of pervert when I’m trying to take care of my own daughter.”

  The man puffed his chest out, taking a step closer. “Now who you calling a racist?”

  “Do you see anyone else out here?” Asher asked, opening his arms and making a point of looking around.

  The man focused his attention on me. “Is this your stepdaddy?” he asked me.

  I hesitated, weighing my options.

  “You can tell me the truth,” he encouraged.

  Asher stared down at me, his face unreadable. I was being offered two ways out. I could leave Asher’s side and make my way back on my own. Or I could stay with him and try to bring him back with me to Abyssos for justice, Infernari-style, which would consist of him being tortured to within a hair’s breadth of death.

  But not death.

  If I couldn’t kill him, then my duty was to bring him back to Primus Dominus alive. If I ran, I might avoid having to betray my people by saving him from them.

  But abandoning him was as good as a death sentence. Azazel or another Infernarus would corner him and kill him.

  No Infernarus would ever be that cavalier about repaying a life debt, and I was disgusted with myself for even considering it. I had spent too much time on Earth; their treacherous ways were rubbing off on me.

  I had to stay and protect him.

  That was the only thing my conscience would allow.

  While I was repaying my debt, I would do everything in my power to stop Asher from killing Infernari and destroying our portals. I was not going to let my people die for this.

  Asher edged behind the cowboy and, imperceptibly, his hand crept toward his holster. The threat in his eyes was perfectly clear: if I accepted this man’s help, Asher would kill him on the spot.

  The man was still waiting for me to speak.

  Finally, I nodded.

  It was barely perceptible, but I saw Asher exhale. His hand moved away from his hip.

  The man stared at me for a little longer. “You sure about that?”

  In response, I walked into Asher’s arms, wrapping my little ones the best I could around his broad torso. The infamous hunter’s arms came around me, pulling me into him. I would’ve assumed Asher would be awkward when it came to giving a small child affection, but there wasn’t any hesitation on his part. He was a natural at it.

  He stood, picking me up with him.

  Wrapped up in the arms of an Infernari killer.

  My decision suddenly seem like a poor one. I pressed my forehead into Asher’s collarbone, wondering if I made the wrong choice.

  I’d find out soon enough.

  The man reluctantly left us, his shoes crunching against the gravel as he walked away.

  As soon as he was far enough away, Asher dropped me.

  A human child would’ve tumbled into the ground, hurting themselves along the way. I landed in a crouch.

  The ass.

  Asher’s upper lip curled at the sight. “Don’t pull shit like that again on me,” he threatened.

  “You need to be nice to me,” I said. “I can still scream.”

  He folded his arms and looked down his nose at me. “You’ll get whatever I give you.”

  I mirrored his stance, folding my arms. I knew full well how absurd I must look. “Then this is what it will be like at every—single—stop.”

  We stared each other down, Asher working his jaw as though he tasted something bad in his mouth.

  My stomach chose that moment, of all times, to growl, somewhat diminishing the ferocity of my threat.

  Food, right.

  That was the whole point of this stop. I was starving. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d eaten. Now fixating on my hunger, I gazed longingly past him at the convenience store, then looked to him for permission.

  His eyes took on a calculating glint.

  “How would you like one of those?” He pointed to a large picture mounted in the windows that showed some kind of charred meat, glistening with oil, nestled inside a puffy, flaky bun, covered with red, yellow, and green sauces—a hotdog, if my memory served me correctly.

  My stomach rumbled again, and I nodded, trying not to look too excited.

  Humans did have a way with food.

  “Yeah? You want one? Just makes your mouth water looking at it, doesn’t it?”

  “Not if you’re going to dangle it in front of me like that,” I snapped.

  “Tell you what, I’ll buy you one of those, and whatever else you want in that store . . . if you agree to cooperate from now on.”

  My eyes narrowed. He was tricking me, of course.

  Never make deals with humans.

  “That means no more throwing tantrums,” he began listing off on his fingers, “no more changing into little girls, no more trying to kill me, and no more trying to escape, you understand?”

  “Why in the world would I agree to that? Those are all my favorite things.”

  “There’s another portal in Central America. That’s where I’m going. You need to get there, too, because you need to go home. We’ll get there faster if we cooperate, and . . .” his throat worked through a swallow, “. . . I’ll let you sit up front.”

  Up front? With him?

  The thought was both exciting and terrifying.

  I had no knowledge of this portal he spoke of—the one I knew of was across the sea—and I knew the hunter would get to the portal whether I cooperated or not. The question was whether I could slow him down.

  “Swear to me you won’t destroy it,” I demanded, chiding myself a moment later. A human’s word meant nothing.

  “Or,” he said, pointing over my shoulder, “I could dump your ashes in that field.”

  “So all this really is, is a death threat disguised as some kind of a good deal, which it is not.”

  His eyebrows pinched together. “You’ve been here too long.”

  But I had formed my own plan. “I accept. You have my word I won’t kill you or try to escape . . . or misbehave,” I added with a curled lip, “provided you take me to the portal.”

  Since my debt already forbid me from killing or abandoning him, I wasn’t giving anything up. We’d go to the gateway together, and rather than lett
ing Asher destroy the portal, I would simply force him to cross over with me. I almost smiled at the thought of out-tricking the trickster. Once we were back in Abyssos, I’d strike a deal with the primus dominus that would allow him to live . . . albeit in the Dungeons of Furor.

  I could keep my oath and save my species.

  My pride didn’t last a heartbeat. The way I’d tricked him felt upsettingly duplicitous. Upsettingly human.

  Without another word, Asher turned and strode toward the convenience store.

  “Five minutes, Lana,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m grabbing a hotdog, get what you want.”

  He just . . . left me.

  I glanced around, wondering if this was another ploy.

  Likely.

  It didn’t matter anyway. I’d made my decision.

  As quick as I could, I returned to my original skin, running my hands through my hair and over my clothing, before heading toward the convenience store. I glanced at Asher’s car as I walked. I had to get back in the thing after this. And not just for a couple of hours, which was bad enough. Central America was a far distance from here. It would take days.

  My stomach clenched just at the thought.

  I pushed open the door and slipped inside the store, where Asher already was picking up supplies. As soon as he caught me staring, he gave me another one of his stern warning looks, daring me to put one toe out of line and suffer the repercussions.

  I didn’t bother glaring back at him.

  A human food store. It captivated me completely.

  Slowly I walked down the first aisle, taking it all in. It wasn’t that I was unfamiliar with convenience stores. I traveled topside too many times for that. It was just that they never ceased to amaze me. I stretched my arms out, letting my fingers brush against all the pretty packages. This was how humans ate. They walked into a store, headed down a certain aisle, and grabbed exactly what they wanted.

  The food was even wrapped.

  And the flavors!

  I began grabbing things, largely based on how striking the wrapper was, or how strange the item inside looked, or how brightly colored the food was. Soon I couldn’t hold everything I wanted. I dropped it on the ground, gaining the attention of the cashier, who watched me with narrowed eyes, and Asher, who just looked heavenward, shaking his head.

  Ignoring them both, I went back to the front of the store and grabbed a plastic basket before returning to the aisle and dumping all my booty into it.

  Moving onto the next aisle, I hesitated, catching sight of a large metal machine. My first instinct was to edge away, but I was too curious. Warily, I crept in closer and peered at it. A small window had been fitted to the metal front, and through it I could see some bright red liquid churning. Too bright to be blood. I read the label.

  Slurpee.

  A picture showed a woman drinking this Slurpee.

  I’d only grabbed things to eat. This would be my drink.

  I took one of the cups stocked next to the machine. It took me a moment to figure out exactly how the metal device worked. Eventually I tried pulling down the lever in front of me. Instantly, bright red liquid dripped out of the machine, and I hurried to put my cup underneath it. My drink overflowed before I could figure out how to turn it off, and I spent several moments wiping the excess Slurpee off on a nearby rack of shirts.

  “Miss!”

  I licked the sticky red substance off my fingers.

  It was good.

  I capped the drink, grabbing one of the little red tubes—straws, I remembered the name an instant later—and stuck it in my drink. Then wiped the rest of the sticky substance coating my hands off on the shirt rack.

  “Miss, you can’t do that!”

  I turned, lifting the Slurpee to my lips and drawing a deep pull of it.

  I eyed the man behind the counter, who looked a bit peeved, though his annoyance seemed to be evaporating as I watched.

  My gaze moved to his bare arms. I could really use some more magic right about now. It would take an instant to hop over the barrier that separated us. My nails were sharp enough. I could drag them down his arms and get some blood flowing.

  And then I would cull it.

  I took a single step forward.

  A heavy hand fell to the back of my neck. “Don’t even think about it,” Asher growled into my ear.

  I started at his presence so close to me, and the fact that he knew my exact thoughts.

  “You’re not a mindreader,” I said.

  “It doesn’t take a mindreader to figure you demons out.”

  He released me roughly, and I staggered back.

  “Your five minutes are up.” His gaze landed on the Slurpee in my hand, then slid to the items in the basket at my feet.

  “Jesus, Lana,” he said, scowling down at it, “do you want to buy the rest of the store while we’re at it?” He lifted the basket and began pawing through my items.

  “Don’t touch them,” I said, pushing his hands away. He squashed something called a Snowball, much to my dismay.

  “Can you even eat this?” he said, still poking through the items.

  I began to frown. “You’re being mean again.”

  He glanced up, his eyes catching on my lips. “I’m trying to fuc—I’m trying to help,” he said.

  “I don’t need your help. And I want all of this.”

  He gave a long-suffering sigh, then took the basket from me and headed to the front of the store, muttering under his breath.

  I sipped my Slurpee some more, watching his backside as he walked away from me. He had a very nice backside.

  “Stop eye-fucking me, Lana,” Asher said, not turning around.

  Great Mother, what a waste of perfectly good flesh.

  My excitement over human food waned once we approached Asher’s car. I lowered the Slurpee from my lips and stopped short, remembering I had to get back in that metal deathtrap.

  Asher didn’t seem to notice, circling around the driver’s side and throwing in the plastic bag he carried.

  He slammed the door shut. Only then did he catch sight of me.

  He nodded to the front seat. “Get in.”

  I swallowed, the sweet drink souring in my mouth. Traveling in a car for days with the most infamous Infernari hunter in this world. Asher didn’t need to cage me to make me suffer. My situation was tormenting enough.

  Just as Asher’s eyes got hard, I crept toward the door and reluctantly opened it, my throat tightening as I slid in. No other Infernarus could have possibly gotten themselves into this situation. It required a level of stupidity that I solely seemed to possess.

  A moment later, Asher hoisted himself into the car, the vehicle rocking under his weight. He glanced over at me, then closed his eyes and shook his head, pressing his lips tightly together. I imagined that he was thinking similar thoughts.

  I tapped my fingers anxiously on the surface in front of me. I searched for the name the natives called it.

  Da-something-board. Dartboard?

  Hmmm, no.

  The engine roared to life, startling me out of my musings.

  My Slurpee slipped from my hands as I clutched a handle near the door, splattering against the floor.

  Asher cursed. “Tell me you did not just spill a goddamn Slurpee all over my upholstery.”

  His words were lost on me. My chest rose and fell quickly as I braced myself. “Just get it over with,” I said.

  He opened a compartment in front of me. Removing a gun, he grabbed the stack of napkins underneath and dropped them onto my lap. “Clean it,” he said.

  I ignored him, my eyes peeled to the dark horizon as the car began to move.

  Breathe in and out.

  Asher took one look at m
e and cursed again. His hand fished around behind him, delving into one of the plastic bags. He looked over his shoulder at what he was doing. All the while the car rolled forward and I continued to practice inhaling and exhaling slowly.

  Finally, Asher faced forward, dropping a small plastic container into my lap that held round pellets. “Eat one of those,” he said.

  Watermelon Splash Gum, the label read.

  My first instinct was to toss the item out the window. It was Asher after all who gave it to me. But I picked out the item myself, and if the hunter wanted to hurt me, he had far more gruesome ways than forcing me to eat Watermelon Splash Gum.

  I pried my hands away from the car’s frame long enough to pick away the plastic wrapper and open the container. Tentatively I took one of the small pellets and put it in my mouth. More sugar, and a flavor that tasted entirely foreign.

  I chewed and chewed as Asher turned his attention back to driving. He turned back onto the long, lonely stretch of open road, and the car began to accelerate faster and faster. I closed the container and resumed gripping whatever I could.

  “Your medicine’s not working,” I said, still chewing, and starting to panic. The Watermelon Splash Gum refused to break apart between my teeth. I finally gave up on it and swallowed it whole, getting a very uncomfortable sensation as the lump traveled down my throat.

  “It’s gum, not medicine,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road. “The chewing helps with the nausea. And make sure you don’t swallow it.”

  I gulped. “What . . . what happens if you swallow it?”

  “And . . . she swallowed it,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  “You didn’t tell me!” I cried, bolting upright. “Am I going to die?”

  “Mmm . . .” his lips twitched, and I swear I heard him chuckle a little, “that’s doubtful.”

  I wrapped a hand around my throat and stared at the gum container in horror, not getting the joke. “What’s the point of a food you don’t actually eat? Of all human inventions, this has to be the most useless.”