Read Online Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy) by Celia Kyle, Lauren Creed - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Celia Kyle, Lauren Creed
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damage, and I embraced the animal’s anger. Fur rippled over my skin, sliding free of my pores and giving me a light peppering of black. My teeth lengthened, fangs pushing past my gums. I rolled my shoulders, taking in the added strength and speed from the beast.
I went forward, slash, slash, slash , alternating my strikes and forcing the phoenix to keep up with my rapid approach. I backed her up, keeping the pressure high until she came against the bar, captured between two stools. That’s when I got fancy, annoyed yet feeling like a bad ass. I spun in place, doing a complete pirouette—ballet lessons until I burned down the studio—and sent my hellfire-infused blade right across her neck, separating her head from her body.
Adara disappeared into a pile of white ash, crumbling to the ground until she formed a small mound of ex-phoenix.
I propped the tips of my blades on the ground, leaning on them while I blew a few strands of violet hair out of my eyes. I’d almost feel bad if I didn’t know her death wasn’t permanent.
A sizzle followed by an explosion pulled me back to the rest of the mess in the bar, to the others intent on destroying the damned thing.
I’d wanted excitement, right?
A streak of light zinged past me, colliding with the peanut-fathering goblins, and that sent them both into la-la land.
The troll by the door was still going after the framed jersey and I called out to my friend. “Jezze, can you take out the troll?” They weren’t the easiest to subdue with magic, but Jezebeth cracked her knuckles and shook out her hands. “But don’t hurt the autograph.”
Jezze stuck out her tongue and then focused on her work.
I looked around the rest of the room, satisfied that the more violent of the customers were down for the count. The Treeson sisters were arguing over a different pole now, but at least it was actually wood.
Dick’s argument with the beer taps seemed to be winding down. The elf in the corner was now rocking the merits of symbolic interactionism as a research perspective, but it looked like the pillar was winning. Truck remained out for the count, snoring and curled in a ball on the concrete.
Two female dwarves were in the back booth having a slap-fight, but I’d dealt with those two in the past and they were still afraid of me. “Fima Grayspine and Kraza Copperbelt!”
Both ladies focused on me, their glassy eyes wide and lips forming an O.
“Out.”
Everyone else seemed unconscious—or temporarily dead in Adara’s case.
I escorted the others out, nudging them toward the door—and into cabs—while Jezze planted the desire to go home into their heads.
We both turned to face the carnage and Jezze huffed. “Let me get everyone’s names.”
She approached one of the goblins and dug in his pocket in search of a wallet or some kind of ID. Not all of them would have identification like humans, but those that liked living in Orlando generally had something. Jezze wrote down as many names as she could, and I identified a few of the regulars I knew.
Standing above Adara, I pointed at the pile of ash. “Can you put a ‘do not vacuum me up’ sign here?”
Jezze raised her eyebrows in question and I shrugged.
I fingered the hole in my leathers. “She cut a hole in my favorite pair.”
That got me one of those bland, “really?” looks.
“She’s a phoenix.” I shook my head. “It’s not like she won’t come back.”
As long as she wasn’t vacuumed up and spread everywhere.
Jezebeth came over, placing a piece of folded paper next to the pile as I’d asked.
I snapped my fingers. “Oh, wait, we gotta find her head, too.” I peered over the edge of the bar. “It kinda went flying when I chopped it off.” I moved a couple steps and peered around the corner. “Here it is!”
I ignored Jezze’s disapproving frown. Once done, the witch pocketed the list. “I’m going to show this to Mom and see if we can come up with some kind of tracer spell. Figure out
I went forward, slash, slash, slash , alternating my strikes and forcing the phoenix to keep up with my rapid approach. I backed her up, keeping the pressure high until she came against the bar, captured between two stools. That’s when I got fancy, annoyed yet feeling like a bad ass. I spun in place, doing a complete pirouette—ballet lessons until I burned down the studio—and sent my hellfire-infused blade right across her neck, separating her head from her body.
Adara disappeared into a pile of white ash, crumbling to the ground until she formed a small mound of ex-phoenix.
I propped the tips of my blades on the ground, leaning on them while I blew a few strands of violet hair out of my eyes. I’d almost feel bad if I didn’t know her death wasn’t permanent.
A sizzle followed by an explosion pulled me back to the rest of the mess in the bar, to the others intent on destroying the damned thing.
I’d wanted excitement, right?
A streak of light zinged past me, colliding with the peanut-fathering goblins, and that sent them both into la-la land.
The troll by the door was still going after the framed jersey and I called out to my friend. “Jezze, can you take out the troll?” They weren’t the easiest to subdue with magic, but Jezebeth cracked her knuckles and shook out her hands. “But don’t hurt the autograph.”
Jezze stuck out her tongue and then focused on her work.
I looked around the rest of the room, satisfied that the more violent of the customers were down for the count. The Treeson sisters were arguing over a different pole now, but at least it was actually wood.
Dick’s argument with the beer taps seemed to be winding down. The elf in the corner was now rocking the merits of symbolic interactionism as a research perspective, but it looked like the pillar was winning. Truck remained out for the count, snoring and curled in a ball on the concrete.
Two female dwarves were in the back booth having a slap-fight, but I’d dealt with those two in the past and they were still afraid of me. “Fima Grayspine and Kraza Copperbelt!”
Both ladies focused on me, their glassy eyes wide and lips forming an O.
“Out.”
Everyone else seemed unconscious—or temporarily dead in Adara’s case.
I escorted the others out, nudging them toward the door—and into cabs—while Jezze planted the desire to go home into their heads.
We both turned to face the carnage and Jezze huffed. “Let me get everyone’s names.”
She approached one of the goblins and dug in his pocket in search of a wallet or some kind of ID. Not all of them would have identification like humans, but those that liked living in Orlando generally had something. Jezze wrote down as many names as she could, and I identified a few of the regulars I knew.
Standing above Adara, I pointed at the pile of ash. “Can you put a ‘do not vacuum me up’ sign here?”
Jezze raised her eyebrows in question and I shrugged.
I fingered the hole in my leathers. “She cut a hole in my favorite pair.”
That got me one of those bland, “really?” looks.
“She’s a phoenix.” I shook my head. “It’s not like she won’t come back.”
As long as she wasn’t vacuumed up and spread everywhere.
Jezebeth came over, placing a piece of folded paper next to the pile as I’d asked.
I snapped my fingers. “Oh, wait, we gotta find her head, too.” I peered over the edge of the bar. “It kinda went flying when I chopped it off.” I moved a couple steps and peered around the corner. “Here it is!”
I ignored Jezze’s disapproving frown. Once done, the witch pocketed the list. “I’m going to show this to Mom and see if we can come up with some kind of tracer spell. Figure out
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