Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy) Read Online Free PDF

Momma R’s were the only ones that actually ever caused a sting. Everyone else’s more like a soft breeze.
    I hoofed it back to Momma R’s with my bag, forced to run on two legs since Papa Percy’s pixie genes didn’t let me banish bags and packages like I did my clothes. Jezze thought it had to do with my clothing and weapons carrying some part of me.
    I thought it was because Papa Percy could be kind of an asshole sometimes.
    It took twice as long, my unease increasing with every step closer to Momma R’s, and by the time I hit the door, I burst past the wards and into the house. I dropped the bag on the dining table across the hall from the living room.
    Jezze met me there and I was quick to question the woman. “How is he?”
    “He’s been sleeping peacefully,” Jezze assured me and some of the tension in my chest eased. Some. “He— “
    A scream split the night, echoing off the walls and filling the air with pain and desperation. Both of our heads shot up and swung toward the living room. I shot into action first, running across the hall and into the living room, boots sliding over the soft carpet, and then I dropped to my knees beside him.
    His mouth remained open, the unearthly sound escaping his tiny mouth and ringing in my ears. It struck a chord deep in my heart and I ached for Bry. Thin rivulets of tears escaped his little eyes and I reached for him, intent on picking him up and giving him whatever comfort I could. But before I could even touch him, his screams stopped, replaced by a gentle coo and sweet smile as if he hadn’t been sobbing. I checked his forehead, hating that his fever was still present, though I was thankful the elf’s charms were keeping the worst of it at bay.
    “That was… odd.” Jezze drew out her words, frown in place. “Screaming like he was being killed and then smiling like he just outsmarted you and got a cookie.”
    One, the kid never outsmarted me. Occasionally, I simply unknowingly agreed to things. Two, Jezze was right, in a way.
    “I know pain when I hear it, and that wasn’t it.” I shook my head, that sound replaying over and over again. “That was fear.”
    Terror. Dread. Panic. Emotions my son shouldn’t experience. Ever.
    “You’re the expert.” Jezze still sounded skeptical, but I didn’t have any doubt about what Bry just experienced.
    We stayed in place, watching him sleep with that tiny smile on his lips. Peaceful. Content. No hint of what he’d just endured.
    I pushed to my feet and gestured for the witch to follow me back to the dining room so I could show her what I’d snagged at the Crazy Cauldron.
    With every step, the cries replayed, the memory of them sending shivers down my spine. Down my spine and nowhere else within me. Because I wasn’t my mother. I didn’t have another part of me that’d take joy in a child’s scream.
    I hated that I kept having to remind myself that we were nothing alike.
    Even if I enjoyed beating the crap out of asshole trolls and dems that pushed my buttons. But that was different. Right.
    I grabbed my small bag, padded back to the kitchen and found Momma R pulling a pan of freshly baked muffins out of the oven.
    I slid onto a seat at the bar and dug through the small bag. “I’m not hungry.”
    “Nonsense.” A flick of her finger sent the muffins flying through the air, a cup of tea appearing next to a briefly empty plate. “You’ll eat. You need your energy to get through this.”
    She was right. Dammit. Momma R was always right. That didn’t mean I’d say that aloud, though.
    “While you were out,” she glided toward the bar, appearing to float rather than walk, “I called a couple of your fathers.”
    I waited for my normal, knee-jerk reaction. The annoyance at involving my dads in my business. One dad who knew what was best for his little partially demon girl was bad enough. Five were nearly intolerable. But right now, with Bry in danger, I’d take any help I could get.
    “Anything useful?”