Red Blooded

It bothered me. I’d bested the Demon Lord before, so why was this time any different?

In my short experience as a wolf, I’d learned that magic had to go somewhere. When a supe was blasted with foreign magic, as the Prince and Tally had done to me, it either had to flow out, which is what Tally had hoped I’d do with it—or it had to be forced out like Ray had done when he vomited.

In my case alone, it stayed inside.

Most supes could transfer power easily, as my brother had to me when I’d needed it, but power wasn’t raw magic—it was energy, like giving a car a jump so it could grab its own juice. A supe needed power to make magic.

Magic was alive.

It was your signature, something that manifested from deep within you, and it made you unique. The stronger the supernatural, the more power they could generate. Thus their ability to control their magic was more potent.

This was what Rourke had been telling me all along.

The stronger the supe, the higher they were on the supernatural food chain. A supe with less power did not engage those with more power very often. But, on the other hand, if a pixie had been born with my kind of power she would have been fierce, able to wield her own magic to a much higher degree.

That’s what the sorcerers had wanted—to siphon off my power to enhance their own magic. But that wasn’t possible. A power transfer only worked in the short term, but it wasn’t something they could harness and keep.

My wolf barked, interrupting my thoughts. She motioned to the wall and I ran my hands along it as my wolf pushed our senses out to find a weakness or some escape pod. The walls were sterile and smooth, kind of like marble, but more porous. The texture was warm and sticky, but once again, there was no residue.

Not finding anything in the walls, I stepped back and glanced up at the ceiling, but only found more of the same.

Tyler, can you hear me? I called out in my mind. Are you out there?

Nothing.

Our connection was still blessedly there, however. I could feel he was alive, but I wasn’t picking up on anything else from him. The demons had a way to stanch communication or they had put him to sleep somehow. They had no real reason to hurt him, since I was here, but that wasn’t saying much. I had no idea how he reacted once I went down.

The Underworld was nothing like I’d imagined. Fire and brimstone would’ve been too clichéd, but office buildings, courtyards with gazebos, and demons wearing jumpsuits hadn’t been anywhere near my radar. It would’ve been nice if this place had been a little more predictable, because as I thought about escaping, I realized I had no idea how to do it or what I would encounter. It made it hard to prepare.

I sat down in the middle of the room and wrapped my arms around my knees. We have to be thoughtful about this, I told my wolf. We’re probably being monitored right now. I peered into all the corners, trying to locate anyplace they could’ve mounted a camera, as one hand wandered to my chest to rub the small ache that still lingered. We should’ve been able to take on the Prince’s magic. I was having trouble letting it go. My wolf growled in agreement. We went down too quickly. And I wonder if Tyler tried to defend us? I’m sure he did and they better not have hurt him.

I hated not knowing.

There was no doubt in my mind Tyler had tried to protect me, but how much had they punished him for it? Before I could formulate a new plan, a ding sounding like a doorbell sounded and a voice rang out in passable English: “Prisoner, you will stand trial in three hours. You must prepare yourself.”

Prepare myself? “And how am I supposed to do that?” I called. “Shouldn’t I be meeting with a lawyer?” Did they have demon lawyers in Hell? “Or see someone who is going to try my case?”

No response.

Instead a drawer slid open on the far wall.

I jumped up and went over to investigate. Inside lay a single jumpsuit, neatly folded. I glanced around me, hands on my hips. “I’m not wearing that, so you can forget it,” I called. There was no way I was putting on something they could control me in. I still wore the witches’ hemp fatigues and they’d proven to be very durable and flexible—even after all the blood and guts, and subsequent water dump baths I’d taken.

“You must wear the appropriate garments,” the voice stated in an even tone.

“I’m not putting them on,” I insisted. “You can tell whoever’s in charge they can go to Hell.” Then I laughed a tiny bit maniacally because we were in Hell. How many times in your life can you say that while you’re actually standing in Hell? Never.

Or almost never, in my case.

Instead of my donning the required garments, my leg shot out and connected with the drawer, slamming it back in the wall so hard it cracked the facing. I began to bend over to investigate the damage when a blast of something shot straight into my chest. It was so strong it tossed me back against the far wall, knocking me silly and pinning me there.

But what had hit me wasn’t magic.

It was air.

The fire hose of wind held me for a few moments, and then abruptly shut off. I dropped to my knees. Do you see where the air jets are coming from? I asked my wolf. She growled, but shook her head. “You’re going to try to take me down with air?” I shouted into the room. “I don’t think so!”

I made a move to step forward and another blast shot into my abdomen. Before I knew what had happened I was plastered up against the wall once again.

The pressure was intense.

At this rate it would bore a hole through me. We need to stop it. I gritted my teeth. My wolf shot power through us and I managed to angle my hand in front of the brunt of the jet. I was in my Lycan form and as I cupped the air into my hands. Fighting it with all my strength, I managed to direct it away from my body. It took both my hands and all my strength.

Using the power of straight-line winds, clocking in at easily a hundred miles per hour, was actually brilliant on the demons’ part. Air wasn’t magic. I couldn’t combat it with anything except pure force. I took a step forward, gnashing my teeth, my hands still shielding the blast away from me.

This might be able to stop a lesser demon in its tracks, but not a pissed-off werewolf.

Power tingled in my hand as my strength beat back the airflow. I continued to push forward, searching for where it was coming from. Let’s make it look like we’re struggling more, I told my wolf as I took another small step forward and staggered a bit. We need to find the source so we can destroy it, but we can’t move too quickly or they’ll amp up the flow. The room was obviously rigged with things, like drawers and air jets, so it wasn’t completely sealed, which was great news.