Chapter 17
The God of the Dead hadn’t been joking when he’d claimed Stull was a portal to Hell. Jasper had heard tales, rumors really, about the horrors of the old cemetery, but reality was far worse. Thankfully, it was not Halloween nor the spring equinox, when the Devil was said to show up to frolic among the worn headstones, blackened with mold and age.
While Mantus could’ve transported them both here instantly, it would have required Jasper to give the conniving deity permission to inhabit his own body and that was never going to happen. So instead, they had high-tailed it to the not-so-quaint town in record time—less than eighteen hours—on his Harley.
The ride had not been as nice as his last one with Savannah’s arms wrapped around his waist. For one, the god smelled of rotten tobacco leaves, not honeysuckle. Despite racing along highways and lonely winding roads at the bike’s top speed, Mantus had screamed most of the trip to go faster. He’d even hollered with glee when they’d nearly died careening off a particularly dangerous curve in the mountains of Colorado.
Standing to stretch, Jasper’s muscles screamed for relief. His ass had gone numb somewhere around the three-hour mark of the ride. He could barely stand, much less walk straight. Jasper prayed his legs weren’t permanently bowed.
However, Mantus leaped off the bike, squealing with delight. “I have GOT to get me one of these!”
If it’d get rid of the insane deity sooner, he would readily hand over the keys and become a hitchhiker.
Jasper scanned the area. It was long past midnight, not a soul in sight. No ghost hunting hobbyists trying to scare up paranormal activity. No Wiccan covens meeting to worship under the hanging tree—a tree reputed to have split a tombstone in half—even though the tree had long ago been cut down. Although, he wished it were raining, so he could check out the tall tale of the roofless church where rain never fell.
Yes, the atmosphere around Stull was more than edged with evil. It was downright palpable, and they hadn’t even entered the gate yet. A sheer fog wound its way along the ground like a trail map instead of blanketing the whole area. Along with it came the familiar stench of sulfur. The evening sky had been perfectly clear just a few miles down the road, but now not so much as a speck of a star shone in the velvety night sky. Interestingly enough, there was no wind, no nocturnal animal noises—everything was dead silent.
Perfect spot for a Hellmouth!
A chill ran up Jasper’s spine. Despite everything he’d encountered over the centuries of fighting demonic forces as a guardian angel, nothing had prepared him for the sheer terrorizing prospect of walking into Hell itself.
Did he love Savannah enough to really do this?
A loud YES resonated in his head—his own spirit guides answering for him. The truth radiated to his entire body, sending warm tingles out through his fingertips and toes.
YES. I do love her.
Acknowledging it renewed his courage. If this had been any other human messed up in this predicament, he knew he’d still forge on ahead to rescue them. But it was his love for her that strengthened him. He would not fail her. He could not fail her.
As the deep impact of that fact hit home, his lips quirked up in a smile he couldn’t keep from forming. Who would’ve thought? Me? In love?
No one would believe it, not even his bestie, Greylyn. He’d never so much as glanced at a woman twice in all his hundreds of years on this planet. One look, one roll in the hay, and that had been good enough for him. He’d cast his bedroom eyes at Greylyn in that way once or twice, but she had made it perfectly clear from the get-go that they were just friends. Best friends, but still—just friends. He’d still kill to protect her, even if she was fully capable of protecting herself.
This, with Savannah, was different. She could protect herself just fine from most things, except when it came to a loony-toon goddess with an agenda. For that, she needed him. It was nice to be needed. It was nicer still to be wanted. Of that—her wanting him—he was completely certain. When all was said and done, he’d have to figure out how to incorporate her into his wild life. Or maybe it was time for a sabbatical from his guardian duties. He’d never heard of a guardian going on an extended vacation, but why not?
First, he had to save Savannah from Manea.
Now restless to get going, he turned around to discover that he was all alone.
Mantus, in his lanky, teenage Billy-suit, was nowhere in sight.
***
Cursing under his breath, Jasper stomped through the front gate to Stull Cemetery, roaring for Mantus. He didn’t care if he did wake the literal dead. “Mantus, show your fucking self NOW, you bastard!”
Silence answered, fueling his fury.
He followed the winding trail of mist through countless headstones, past dark mausoleums where the energy of the dead stagnated and congealed into blacker than black masses, through a copse of dead trees, which ended just at the front door of the roofless, burned-out stone church. As if there was a cord wrapped around his waist, an invisible force pulled him toward the door. Peering inside, it was just as pitch black—if not more so—than outside. He was about to pivot and search for the errant god someplace else when a lunatic chuckle wafted to his ears.
“Mantus!”
A hand struck out from the other side of the door and yanked him inside.
The darkness melted away. Jasper shielded his eyes with his forearm from the bright blue light spinning in the center of the dilapidated church. It made no noise. It cast no shadows. The light just… was.
“Shhh!” Mantus placed a solitary finger over his lips. “We don’t want to warn her that we’re coming. As soon as we cross the threshold, it’s radio-silence. Do you understand?”
Jasper tried to glare at him, but the need to squint was too great. “What is that?” he whisper-screamed.
A smile reminiscent of Heath Ledger’s adaptation of the Joker spread across the god’s face. It sent a thread of revulsion through Jasper’s veins. At this point, he half-wished Mantus would take on his usual form of a satyr on steroids. Having the innocent-looking Billy’s features contorted with diabolical evil was too freakish to stomach.
“What the devil do you think it is? It’s the portal, you stupid half-human. It’s our ride to the other side.” Without warning, he grabbed Jasper by the wrist and flung them both into the blinding light.
There was no way to describe the immense pressure, agonizing pain, and fear that spread through Jasper’s body as they twisted and turned, shot up then down, before slamming into the hardest granite floor he’d ever hit. The trip lasted only seconds, but it would never leave his memory as the most fucked up seconds of his immortal life.
Every muscle screamed in agony as he pushed up from the sizzling floor. In contrast, Mantus popped up like he’d been bouncing on a trampoline—all smiles and goofy giggles. “Woo hoo! That landing gets me every time! One day I’ll stick the landing better than Simone Biles off the pole vault.”
How the ancient god knew about an Olympian gymnast, Jasper didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Maybe they had network television in his hellish compound.
“I thought you said we had to be radio-silent when we arrived. You’re hooting louder than a pack of kids on a roller coaster,” Jasper grit out between clenched teeth.
Mantus’s eyes went wide, his mouth opened into a huge “O” and his hand flew to cover his lips. “Oops,” he whispered. “Sorry, I forgot.”
So much for the element of surprise if Manea did have Savannah down here. Considering the anguished screams in the distance and the faint tinge of rotten eggs in the steam rising from the ground, he prayed she was far from here.
“I also thought you said we needed to pick up a couple of things before the trip to Hell. Did you forget that, too?”
That sickening grin took over Billy’s face again. Jasper was certain he would never look at the kid the same, even if he did survive being possessed by the frigging God of the Dead.
“Oh, I grabbed those while you were busy having an epiphany of some sort back at the cemetery.” He patted the front pockets of the torn jeans he wore… Billy wore. “Thought I’d have to do the rest all on my own if you didn’t snap out of it.”
Inquisitive eyes bored into Jasper, but he had no intention of revealing anything to the deranged deity, so he just continued to glare back.
After a longer than comfortable stare-down contest, Mantus blinked first. “On our way, then.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered down a chiseled-out trail in the blackened rocks.
Yep, when this is over. I’ll kill Manea and Mantus just for the hell of it.