Page 14 of Hellfire to Come (Infernal Regions for the Unprepared #5)

Chapter Fourteen

brOOKLYN

The wind was cruel in the way only dusk winds are, neither warm nor cold, just persistent.

It scraped over the land like a restless spirit, whispering through the brush, carrying scents of earth, ash, and something old.

The reservation gate rose from the ground like a solemn sentinel, carved from aged cedar and etched with glyphs that pulsed faintly in the dying light.

Wards shimmered across its threshold, an invisible veil humming with power.

And I couldn’t cross it.

I stood there, only a few paces from the boundary, the very air thick with ancestral magic that repelled every step I might dare to take.

My body tensed against it, like the bones in me understood this land would not welcome me unless invited.

Even Dominic couldn’t pass the wards since we had the mate link connecting us.

Whatever magic the humans used recognized him as one of the Atua, one of my kind, because of me.

So, Dominic stood silently at my side. He hadn’t said much since we’d left the others, or after he doubled over in excruciating pain when he tried to dart toward the gate.

He didn’t need to. His presence alone steadied me, kept the storm inside from ripping free and swallowing everything in its path.

He understood why I was here—why I had to do this alone.

And he didn’t blame me for making him one of the unwanted at the reservations.

If anything, he looked proud, carrying that quiet satisfaction that the magic had recognized him as my mate.

“Let them know who will be coming for them if they touch a hair on your head,” he told me with his chest puffed up.

If I was not emotionally, physically and mentally drained, I would’ve laughed until my sides hurt.

This male was seriously something. So endearing.

But I couldn’t allow myself to enjoy it. To enjoy him.

I’d left Alice pale and burning, her breathing shallow and uneven. Rowan, even more ghost than male now, was barely holding on to life. And Samir, silent and locked away with his secrets, gave me nothing but more weight for my already overburdened shoulders.

I couldn’t fix all of them. I wasn’t a healer. But I could beg. And I could bleed if that’s what it took to remedy what my presence in their lives had destroyed.

“I don’t know if they’ll let me in even if I ask,” I murmured, my voice barely audible against the wind.

My fingers flexed unconsciously at my sides, the phantom memory of Alice’s limp weight still clinging to my skin.

“They’ve never allowed anyone like me to step foot past this gate. And I don’t blame them.”

Dominic finally spoke, his voice low and steady. “Then we wait. If it takes hours, or days… we wait.”

I turned to look at him, my eyes tracing his profile slowly. “Even if she’s dying?” The words choked behind my clenched teeth.

He didn’t blink. “Especially then. We do this right. Or not at all. You can’t help Alice if you die. I will not allow it, Brooklyn. Don’t ask it of me. I’m begging you.”

I exhaled slowly. The patience and love in him could crush mountains, weather all storms. It made me ache with gratitude and fury at once.

Because I wanted to break down the gate, tear through the wards with every ounce of rage and desperation I carried but that wouldn’t bring them to our side.

Dominic was right. If I do that, it would only confirm their fear of what I was.

So, I sat down in the red dust just outside the threshold, arms wrapped around my knees, eyes fixed on the path beyond.

The land stretched out in golden silence, the grasses whispering secrets only the old souls could hear.

Somewhere past the trees, the community waited, and beyond that was the shaman.

Laughing Crow.

The one shaman I had not only heard stories of, but seen, once, from a distance.

A woman cloaked not in feathers or robes but in quiet strength, eyes sharper than bone knives, heart stitched with fire and water both.

She owed me nothing. I could offer her nothing but a plea and the raw wound of my love for a friend. That must mean something.

The sky darkened inch by inch, draining the color from the world and pulling my strength back with it.

I couldn’t afford to wait for full night to reach the reservation, so I endured the sluggish crawl of fading daylight, holding out for that moment.

Dominic crouched beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. Neither of us spoke. There was no need.

Time passed like a tide. Nothing moved.

Until a figure appeared at the far edge of the path.

A silhouette emerged at the edge of the path, framed in the final copper light of the setting sun.

At first, I thought it might be a shadow, a trick of desperation and dying light, but the figure moved with too much purpose, too much rooted weight.

A man. Broad-shouldered, tall, his gait steady as he approached the gate.

Dominic stood at once, eyes narrowing protectively, but I lifted a hand without rising.

“Wait,” I whispered. “Let him come.”

The man stopped just beyond the boundary line, his gaze sweeping over the two of us. He wore no uniform, no symbols of power or rank. Just dark denim, worn boots, and a flannel shirt rolled at the sleeves. But there was something ancient in his presence. Something unyielding.

“You’ve been here a long time, Jumlin,” he said, his voice low, unhurried. It had the cadence of stone warmed by sun, not unkind, but measured. I flinched at the insult. “You know you can’t cross.”

“I know,” I said, quickly standing. Dust clung to my clothes, but I didn’t care. “I’m not trying to. I just…I need to speak with someone.” Swallowing thickly, I prayed he wouldn’t walk away. “I need to speak with your shaman. With Laughing Crow.”

At the mention of her name, his brows drew together slightly. Not a scowl, but more like the tightening of threads woven too many times before.

“Laughing Crow does not accept visitors like you.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t life or death.

” My voice trembled. I hated that. I was used to fire, to fury.

But this wasn’t a battlefield I could win by force.

“My friend…Alice. She’s…she’s dying. We tried everything.

She’s under a spell. Something unnatural, binding and burning her from the inside out.

She won’t make it through the night without help. ”

The man’s expression didn’t change. He simply watched me with eyes the color of scorched pine bark. Measuring. Weighing.

I stepped closer to the invisible line, just short of the ward’s shimmer.

Yet he still stood firm without any fear I could notice.

“Please,” I whispered. “I don’t care if I have to wait out here all night.

I don’t care if she spits in my face when she sees what I am.

Just let her know I’m here. Tell her Brooklyn asks for her mercy. That I’ll owe her anything she asks.”

Behind me, Dominic shifted his weight, silent but present. The muscles in his arms were taut, ready to spring if this turned, but still following my lead.

Still, the man said nothing.

“I’ve never been here before,” I added quietly, desperation pressing at the back of my throat.

“I’ve sent many that take sanctuary at your reservation but never asked for anything in return.

I’ve never asked for help from your people.

And I swear to you, I’m not lying. And if you don’t believe me, look at me. ”

I lifted my hand and pressed it to my own chest, above my heart. “She’s like a sister to me. I’m not asking for myself. Just for a chance to save her.”

The man’s gaze softened just slightly. Enough that I knew something had shifted.

He gave a short nod. “Wait here.”

Then he turned and walked away, back into the shadows of the trees, his boots silent on the earth.

I sank to my knees, pressing shaking hands to cover my face.

“You think he’ll come back?” I asked Dominic through my fingers.

My mate lowered himself beside me again, one arm brushing mine. “If he believed you… yes.”

“And if he didn’t?”

“Then we’ll wait until someone else comes. Or until you fall asleep and I carry you home myself.”

I laughed, dry and cracked. “You’d have to fight me first.”

He didn’t smile. “Then I’d fight you. I have a bad feeling about this, Brooklyn.”

The last light faded from the sky, and the wards shimmered faintly like stars clinging to the soil.

I closed my eyes, and prayed to whoever listened that the shaman had humanity in her and at least heard my plea. I barely breathed from the tension coiling my muscles.

And waited…

And waited.