Page 3

Chapter Three

A few hours before dawn, I dragged myself up the stairs to my apartment. Pulling double shifts—first at the coffee shop and then at Wraith & Whiskey—had me feeling like I’d gone ten rounds with a hellhound. Each step was a test of endurance, and I often wondered how anyone—human or otherwise—managed this kind of grind without collapsing. Even in Hell, with its endless days of training and fighting, I hadn’t been this exhausted. One would think that after all this time, I’d be used to working such long hours, but sadly, I was not.

I fumbled with my keys, my fingers clumsy from exhaustion. After a few failed attempts, I finally managed to unlock the door. Somewhere between leaving the bar and hopping on the bus, my brain had turned to mush. It had taken every ounce of willpower I had just to keep my eyes open during the ride home.

Pushing open the door, the familiar and comforting scent of my apartment greeted me—a blend of vanilla and citrus candles. I liked to burn them to mask the lingering scent of cat, imp, and the earthy aroma of yarn. Dropping my purse with a heavy thud, I kicked off my shoes, sighing in relief as my toes finally stretched in newfound freedom.

I leaned against the nearest wall and closed my eyes, weariness seeping into my bones. I considered curling up right there on the floor. Even that sounded better than dragging myself the twenty feet down the hall to my bedroom. But I had to shower first. I was covered in booze, coffee, and who knew what else. Going to bed unclean was not an option.

Eventually, I pulled myself together and pushed off the wall.

“Purrgatory, Vol, I’m home!” I called out.

A slightly overweight ginger cat sauntered into view, his green eyes half-closed in disdainful judgment. Purrgatory, or Purrgy as I affectionately called him, clearly believed I existed only to fulfill his cuddle quota. He often vocalized his dislike of me going to work—regardless of the fact that my jobs kept him fed and living in luxurious comfort. Luxurious comfort being my rundown, one-bedroom apartment with thin walls and a perpetually leaky faucet in the kitchen that my landlord kept insisting he would fix. But to Purrgy, this was his kingdom, and I, the servant who fulfilled his every whim.

As I bent down to give Purrgy a scritch behind the ears, a tiny, high-pitched voice interrupted. “Hey, Meat Sack! Did you bring me anything fun?”

My focus darted to the source of those colorful words. A small imp emerged from behind the couch, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. Vol stood six inches tall, with leathery skin the color of charred ash, and wore a jungle explorer outfit I’d stolen from a doll. Next to a pair of jagged horns were two tiny, pointed ears that twitched with every sound. He also had a tail that flicked back and forth like a whip. He bared his small but incredibly sharp teeth—ask me how I knew—in a grin that promised a whole world of trouble.

“Hi, Vol,” I commented with narrowed eyes. As far as roommates went, he was unapologetically the worst. It was rare for me to come home and find everything in order. Imps weren’t exactly known for their manners, and Vol embodied chaos to his devilish core—kinda like someone else I knew.

Straightening, I perched my hands on my hips and surveyed the apartment. Everything looked in order, but I knew better. Especially considering the diabolical grin on his little face.

“What have you been up to?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he replied with an exaggerated innocence, which I didn’t buy for a second. “Just…redecorating.”

I followed his gaze to the corner of the room where a pile of unraveled yarn sat—a pile of yarn that had previously taken the form of a half-knitted hat. And this, ladies and gentlemen, was why I said I couldn’t knit. Not for lack of trying, but because the little turd never let me finish a project. Vol had a nasty habit of destroying anything I made to fashion a new nest. Because, in his opinion, one simply wasn’t enough.

We’d been playing this game for the last eight years, ever since I’d stumbled across him huddled in a snowbank, shivering and half-frozen. Truly, it was my fault for welcoming the little toad into my life. But I hadn’t been able to walk away, knowing he would die if I’d left him there. So, I’d scooped him up, wrapped him in a scarf, and carried him home. Once he’d thawed out and realized I’d meant him no harm, his impish nature had taken over, and he’d quickly made himself at home. The very scarf I’d wrapped him in had become the first casualty. He’d shredded it to make himself a bed, because the cat bed I’d bought him apparently hadn’t been good enough.

Since then, none of my handmade projects were safe. I knew better than to continue knitting, but there was this niggling thought in my head, one that said better the yarn than my bedding, couch, or heaven forbid, Purrgy. For some reason, destroying my knitting projects quelled his destructive nature. So, I kept buying yarn and pretended like his antics pissed me off. Truly, I was just relieved he hadn’t demolished the entire apartment. I was pretty sure my pet deposit didn’t cover imps.

“Vol,” I grumbled, knowing he would appreciate my dramatics. “I needed that yarn for a project.”

He shrugged, perching on the edge of the couch and swinging his legs. “You needed it, I needed it. Let’s call it even. Besides, you weren’t even using it.”

Playing into my role, I glared at him. “No more destroying my things, okay? I can’t afford to keep replacing stuff!” As it was, tonight’s tips would likely go to replenishing the stash. Good yarn wasn’t cheap.

Vol snickered, clearly unrepentant. “Sure, Lily. Whatever you say.”

Purrgy, tired of us ignoring him, jumped onto the couch and plopped down in a huff. His green eyes followed Vol’s every movement, as if waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. The two had a love-hate relationship that mostly revolved around Purrgy tolerating Vol’s antics until he crossed a line, at which point the cat would swat at the imp.

No one ever said my life was boring.

With a crazed laugh, Vol leapt onto Purrgy’s back. The cat let out a yowl of protest but didn’t move. Honestly, I think he just liked the attention. They were each other’s constant companions, after all.

Vol cackled and gripped Purrgy’s fur like a tiny, demented jockey. “Giddy up, Purrgy!”

I rolled my eyes, suddenly regretting letting Vol watch a few Western films over the weekend.

After a lazy tail flick, Purrgy rose to his feet and jumped off the couch, which had Vol screaming like a lunatic. He whooped with joy and bounced on Purrgy’s back. “Let’s go!”

I laughed at the sight. “Alright, you two. Play nice. I’m going to take a shower. Don’t destroy the place while I’m gone.”

As I headed to the bathroom, the sound of Vol’s maniacal laughter and Purrgy’s disgruntled meows followed me down the hall. I slipped into the bathroom, stripped, then fired up the shower and hopped in. The second the icy-cold water hit my skin, I gasped and leapt back out.

Yet another thing my landlord had promised to fix.

Shivering, I waited for the water to finally warm up, then tucked back under the spray and gave a contented sigh. There was nothing quite like a hot shower at the end of a long day. I basked in the warmth, then washed away the grime of the day, all while listening to the familiar insanity coming from the living room. Vol’s crazed laughter echoed through the walls and brought a smile to my lips.

After finishing my shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and headed back into the living room. Vol and Purrgy had settled somewhat, with Vol now perched on the arm of the couch, surveying his “kingdom” with a smug expression. Purrgy sprawled in his nearby cat bed, half asleep, though his ears still twitched at every sound.

Recognizing that they were done fighting for the night, I escaped to my bedroom, where I quickly dressed before Vol decided to come barging in. The first—and only—time he’d seen me naked, he’d thrown himself dramatically to the ground, wailing about how “it burned” his eyes and he’d “gone blind.” His theatrics had sounded so convincing that I’d actually worried about him. Since then, I’d made it a point to dress in private. Better safe than sorry.

Now wrapped in my coziest Christmas skull pajamas, I tucked myself into bed and stretched from tip to toe. In my head, I counted down from thirty. When I reached ten, the bed shifted under extra weight. A quick glance revealed Purrgy, with Vol astride his back, half sprawled as though their latest antics had worn him out.

Purrgy approached and nudged his cheek against my chin before tucking himself into his usual nook beside me. Once Purrgy settled, Vol hopped off and took his usual spot on the second pillow.

Smiling, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

Wraith & Whiskey thrummed with energy tonight. The bar teemed with patrons—both familiar and new—and lively conversation and laughter echoed from each corner. Between mixing drinks and bantering with the regulars, my mind raced with anticipation of what the night might bring. After all, it wasn’t every day I had the opportunity to hunt a vampire with my best swords in tow, swords quietly tucked away in the staff room so as not to attract any attention.

I slid a neon-pink cocktail across the bar to a pixie, who winked at me and left a generous tip. How she planned to carry a glass as big as her was beyond me, but I’d learned not to question these things.

A smile crossed my lips at the sight of her fluttering back to her table, where her companions awaited—a dragon shifter and a member of the fae court. In all my years pouring drinks, I’d never had the pleasure of serving such distinguished guests, as their kind didn’t particularly enjoy venturing into the human world. Where they’d met the pixie, I had absolutely no idea, but the three seemed to get along rather famously. Clearly, they were involved in some form of intimate relationship, and while I wondered how a pixie, dragon shifter, and fae had, erm, relations considering their range in sizes, I figured those details were best left to them to figure out.

From the looks of it, I wasn’t the only one curious about them. Their presence was certainly causing a stir. Heads turned and whispers followed them, adding a spark of excitement to the normally dank, dark air.

My coworker, Mason, sidled up to the bar and took a seat across from me, placing his empty drink tray down on the counter. He rattled off a list of requested drinks, which I immediately started mixing.

He swivelled on the stool and perused the bar. “Busy night,” he commented, his attention drifting to the unusual trio.

“Mm-hmm,” I hummed. “Feel free to jump in and mix a few drinks yourself. I’ve been slammed since we opened.”

Mason chuckled, a deep and gravelly sound that perfectly matched his gargoyle nature. I’d never seen him in statue form, but when we first met, he’d assured me he was made of the hardest granite. I admit, I’d given him a high-five for that one.

“Trust me, there’s a reason I’m a waiter and not a bartender,” he said. “I think the only drink I know how to make is a scotch on the rocks.”

“Everyone can make that one,” I teased.

“Oh, and a gin and tonic.”

I chuckled before placing the first few drinks on his tray. As I reached for a bottle of vermouth, a sudden commotion stole my attention. My focus shot to the table responsible just in time to catch the dragon shifter laugh at something the pixie said. Then he leaned back in his seat, tilted his head up, and belched a jet of fire straight up into the air.

Silence fell over the bar for a few seconds before everyone erupted into cheers and laughter, egging him on. The pixie squealed in delight, but the fae lord merely raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed by the show.

I merely blinked, then lifted my gaze to the ceiling to ensure the dragon shifter hadn’t done any lasting damage. “Well, that’s a new one. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a dragon burp like that before.”

Mason laughed. “Seen many dragons, have ya?”

“Not at all,” I said, chuckling.

“Me neither. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Shaking my head, I continued mixing the last two drinks.

“And speaking of seeing spectacular things, I’ve recently seen something hella spectacular,” Mason said.

I gave a quiet snicker. In all my years on Earth, one thing had become abundantly clear—both humans and paranormals loved a good dose of gossip. And me being a bartender meant I was always on the receiving end of everyone’s secrets. I’d heard things I could never unhear.

“You know how I watch over the Alberta Legislature Building?” he asked, continuing without my encouragement.

“Sure,” I said. That was his daytime spot. All gargoyles turned to stone at sunrise, so they each had a favourite perch they deemed theirs . According to Mason, he mostly slept during the day, since he couldn’t do much else, but he was aware of everything that happened around him even when in stone form.

“Well, a few days ago,” he said, “I was napping in the sunlight when a portal opened up nearby, behind the building. And wouldn’t you know it, but a bloody hellspawn just strolled right out.”

My heart slammed to a complete and utter stop, and my hand froze mid-pour. I lifted my head and stared at him, goosebumps rolling down my arms. “What?”

“A hellspawn,” he repeated. “Saw it with my very own eyes.”

Had this announcement come from anyone else, I would have questioned them. The Alberta Legislature Building was by no means small, and the grounds spanned quite the distance. But gargoyles had the sharpest vision of all paranormals—they could see for miles, even in their stone form. More than that, gargoyles were “watchers,” renowned for passing down ancient knowledge from one generation to the next, so they were privy to information most others had forgotten. So, if Mason said he’d seen a hellspawn, I was inclined to believe him, much to my dismay.

Hellspawn were my father’s creation—terrifying creatures born from the darkest depths of Hell. He forged them using the souls of the damned, fusing them with the dark essence of his fallen angels. Each one was a walking embodiment of pure malice and destruction, crafted to serve Lucifer’s every whim. The process consumed the soul entirely, leaving behind nothing but a body warped by evil.

My father’s designs varied. Some, like vampires, still resembled their former human selves, but were “improved” with fangs and claws. Others were far more grotesque, with horns, bulbous poisonous skin, jagged horns, and bisected tongues. But one trait remained constant—their insatiable hunger to kill anything that moved.

Growing up in Hell, I knew these creatures well. I’d both trained alongside and killed them. I’d watched as my father grew their numbers with one goal in mind: dominating Earth.

According to Calyx—my father’s scribe—Lucifer had almost succeeded once, long before my birth. He’d unleashed the hellspawn on Earth and set them free to wreak havoc and chaos. But Heaven had other plans. They intervened and slammed the portal gates shut between Earth and Hell, thereby cutting off Lucifer’s plans to invade. But such a move had come with one downside: it’d trapped many of the hellspawn on Earth.

Over the past decade, I’d done my own research and pieced together what happened after Heaven sealed the gates to the portals. The hellspawn trapped on Earth were freed from my father’s control and left to fend for themselves. Some remained loyal to their dark master and continued to destroy everything in his name, while others chose to adapt by blending into the human world. Those who were successful interbred with humans, and from those unions, the paranormals were born—earthbound vampires, werewolves, witches, and the like. Those who refused to adapt, who wanted nothing more than to murder and feed, were hunted to extinction. To this day, people still told stories about the monsters and demons that once infested Earth. They just didn’t remember that those monsters— hellspawn —had been real.

But despite their common ancestry, there was one critical difference between the two.

Souls.

Paranormals had them. Hellspawn did not. And that lack of a soul made hellspawn truly monstrous creatures. If one had crossed over onto Earth, it meant everyone was in danger.

Maybe I’d misheard Mason. Or maybe my brain was playing tricks on me after all these years. Hellspawn weren’t supposed to be able to cross over. I mean, I was here, but I wasn’t a hellspawn. Still, Heaven had supposedly sealed the gates millennia ago. So how was one here now?

Of course, I didn’t expect any answers to suddenly come to me. For ten years, this very question had plagued me—how did I get here? Why could I cross over when no one else could? And now, Mason was telling me that a hellspawn had walked right through—and in the same spot where I’d arrived no less.

That was too coincidental for my liking. What the hell was going on here?

“Are you sure?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “There are other realms. Maybe the portal was to one of them?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Mason commented, his gaze scanning our patrons. “My great-grammy used to tell stories about hellspawn—tales she’d heard from her great-grammy. She was always very clear about one thing: blood-red eyes are a dead giveaway. As is their pitch-black aura. No doubt about it—it was a hellspawn.”

A shiver crept down my spine. Blood red-eyes were confirmation enough—while not all hellspawn had them, enough did to ease any doubt. But their aura? That was news to me. I hadn’t realized gargoyles could see energies like that.

I made a mental note to visit the Alberta Legislature Grounds in the next few days, just to ensure everything was copacetic. Not that I could do anything about the portal, but a quick look couldn’t hurt.

“You okay, Lily?” Mason asked.

I blinked away the stupor and forced a smile. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just worried about there being a hellspawn here. That’s not good news by any means.”

Mason’s head bobbed up and down. “I’ve been spreading the word and know some people who are on the lookout. A few mercs are even excited to track it down. A new challenge they’re itching to take on.”

While Mason had meant that as a joke, his words sparked fear in me. After eons of interbreeding with humans, the paranormals had lost much of their power. Few, if any, could take on a hellspawn and live to tell the tale. I could, but I was a celestial. My abilities far surpassed paranormals. Hellspawn, on the other hand, were darker—pure, undiluted evil, crafted in my father’s name. Neither humans nor paranormal stood a chance against them.

Which meant this was very, very bad news.

In all my time on Earth, I’d never encountered a hellspawn. Nor had I heard any talk of anyone crossing paths with one.

If Mason had truly seen a portal from Hell, then someone—or something—had to have opened it. But who? How? And from what side? Could it have been Lucifer?

Oh, hell. I did not love that scenario. Not one bit.

“You haven’t seen any other portals?” I asked.

“Nah. Just the one. It closed a few minutes later, and only the one hellspawn came through.”

I released a shaky breath. That was something at least.

“Hey, you okay, Lily?” Mason asked. “You seem a bit pale.”

“Huh?”

Mason laid a warm hand on mine. “You look sick.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said, and forced a fake laugh to prove it. I only hoped Mason was mistaken. “Well, if there’s really a hellspawn in the city, then we all need to be careful. Keep an eye out. That sort of thing. Just in case.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Does anyone even know how to kill one? I mean, we definitely can’t have something like that just wandering around town. Imagine the chaos.”

“Decapitation is always the best way,” I replied instinctively.

Mason blinked at me. “Wow, you answered that awfully quick. Got some experience killing these things, do you?”

I forced a laugh. “No. Just a, uh, hobby of mine.”

“Killing hellspawn is your hobby?” Mason asked, clearly puzzled.

“More like researching them,” I corrected quickly. “I’ve read a lot about them.”

“Ah, an enthusiast,” he said, his expression relaxing. He opened his mouth to add to our conversation, but a table of shifters started waving their hands at us, signaling for service.

I waved back, then pointed Mason in their direction. “Get going. Duty calls.”

He nodded, picked up his tray, and got back to work. We didn’t have time to speak again until closing time. But for the rest of the night, my thoughts kept racing. By the time we’d locked the bar doors, I had a headache. There wasn’t any time to dwell on it, though, because Eliza was waiting, and we had a vampire to hunt.

After closing up, I hurried into the staff room, pulled on my winter gear, and grabbed my things—including my duffel bag full of weapons. Then I bolted out the back door, waving a quick goodbye to Mason. The wintry night air blasted over me, and I breathed it in, hoping it would clear my head. But it didn’t.

I found Eliza parked in front of the bar, her car running to keep it warm. I hurried to the passenger side and tossed my gear into the back seat. Then I climbed inside before the cold seeped through my layers.

Once belted in, I turned and faced Eliza, who flashed me an eager grin. “Ready for this?”

“Sure,” I replied, trying to match her excitement. I certainly wasn’t as excited as I’d been yesterday, and I could thank Mason for that. The thought of a hellspawn walking around Edmonton had soured my mood.

But Eliza seemed unwilling to let me stew in my misery. She nudged my shoulder, her energy practically buzzing in the car.

“C’mon, this is going to be fun!” she said. “Aren’t you pumped? We’ve got a vampire to hunt.”

I grinned, her contagious enthusiasm reigniting that spark within until I practically vibrated with anticipation.

“That’s better!” Eliza chuckled, eyes gleaming, as she pulled away from the bar. “Trust me, you’re gonna love this. There’s no better feeling.”

Yes, that I knew.