Page 2

Chapter Two

LILY

The neon sign for Wraith & Whiskey flickered faintly in the darkness, the ghostly letters standing out against the night like a beacon for all things supernatural. It cast an eerie, pale glow over the cracked sidewalk, as though daring mortals to notice. They wouldn’t, of course. Magic cloaked the bar from human eyes, ensuring only the paranormal—or those like me—could see it.

I stared at the sign, and my heart gave a twinge. This place had been my second home for five years. I knew every inch, from the sticky floorboards near the jukebox to the gnarly bloodstain by the door—a souvenir from a rowdy evening that had resulted in a fight between a vampire and a chupacabra visiting from down south. The vamp had run his mouth and the chupacabra had put him in his place—rather painfully, I might add.

And now, I was back. Not as a bartender, but as a patron. That thought alone made me cringe. I’d spent countless hours serving drinks, and cleaning up broken furniture—usually broken by me—and occasionally spilled blood. Sure, the work had been hard and the hours long, but this place still meant something to me. And I’d had to give it up, because of my father.

I adjusted my jacket to make sure it concealed my weapons, then shoved open the door with enough force to knock out a small werewolf. The usual din of growls, laughter, and clinking glasses hit me hard, and it surprised me to find myself blinking back tears.

“You okay?” Rathiel asked, his voice quiet.

I released a shaky breath, then nodded. “Yeah. I just didn’t think it would be this hard. Guess you really don’t realize how much something means to you until you lose it.”

His stony silence had me shooting him a sideways glance. Guess he knew all about losing something important to him.

I cleared my throat, and together, we stepped inside. Hank, the grizzled werewolf bouncer, lifted his gaze to me, then slowly arched a furry brow. “Well, look who the cat dragged in,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his hulking frame.

One might have thought he was trying to intimidate me, but nah . Hank only had one tone of voice, and that was gruff.

“Didn’t think we’d see you here again. Miss us already?”

“Only you, big guy,” I quipped, forcing a grin. “But don’t get too excited. I came to speak to Mason and maybe have a drink. Not to work a shift.”

“Pity,” he grumbled. Then he jerked a thumb toward the bar. “Could use the help tonight. Your replacement’s got two left hands.”

As if on cue, a loud crash echoed through the room, followed by a harried, “Son of a?—!”

I snapped a glance toward the bar and winced. My former boss, normally the embodiment of vampiric composure, looked ready to start throwing fists as he struggled to handle three drink orders at once. He bared his fangs, and judging by the tension radiating from his shoulders, someone was about to regret their existence.

Probably me.

Thank goodness he wasn’t my problem anymore. I had more than enough to handle right now.

“Why’s Briggs behind the counter? Hasn’t he hired a new bartender yet?” It hadn’t been that long since I’d quit, but bartenders were a dime a dozen. It shouldn’t have taken longer than a night or two for him to find a replacement.

“Not that I’ve heard,” Hank replied, scratching his scruffy chin. “He’s been back there yelling at anyone who orders a drink.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

Without hesitation, I grabbed Rathiel’s hand and dragged him toward the bar. His hand stiffened briefly before his fingers relaxed and curled around mine. He didn’t say a word, but I caught the slight tilt of his lips—just a hint of amusement.

The chaos behind the bar was worse. In the time it took me to close the distance, Briggs had dropped a bottle of expensive bourbon, broken one shot glass, and over-poured two drinks. Mason and Hunter stood at the other end of the bar, their faces twisted with concern. I gave Mason a small wave, gesturing to him that we needed to talk, but headed straight to Briggs.

The vampire snapped his head up and blinked. “Lily? Tell me this isn’t a hallucination.”

“Hey, Briggs,” I said, offering what I hoped was a charming smile. “Uh, you look busy.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he snapped, slamming a bottle of whiskey onto the counter. “Please tell me you’ve come to your senses and want your job back.”

Oh, awkward. “No,” I said quickly. “I’m just here for a quick visit, and maybe a drink, or…” He spilled another shot. “Maybe not.”

Briggs’s shoulders sagged in defeat, and for a moment, I thought I spotted genuine despair flash across his face. “Figures.”

Guilt slammed into me. “Fine, I’ll help you catch up. But that’s it! I’m not coming back.”

Briggs blinked at me, stunned into silence. Then a wide grin split his face, his fangs glinting in the dim light. “I could kiss you!”

“Don’t,” Rathiel warned, his voice a low growl behind me.

Nervous laughter bubbled out of me, and before anyone could ask who Rathiel was, I slid behind the bar and got to work.

In fifteen minutes flat, I had turned the bar from a disaster zone into something vaguely usable. Customers were sipping their drinks, the barback had washed all the used glasses, and I’d even managed to mix a few orders that had the customers beaming with gratitude. Briggs muttered something about me being a “damn miracle worker” as I polished the last glass and handed it off.

“There,” I said, tossing a towel onto the counter with a flourish. “You’re welcome. Now, I’m going to pour myself and my friend here a drink, for free of course, and leave you to your evening. I might suggest hiring a new bartender soon though. I don’t think you’re quite cut out for the job.”

Briggs shook his head, his expression half relieved and half-bewildered. “You made that look too easy. Sure I can’t bribe you to stay? Money? Blood? Hell, I’ll even get down on my knees and?—”

Rathiel’s alarming snarl had Briggs shooting him another curious glance. I raised a hand before things could escalate into a full-blown testosterone showdown.“As tempting an offer as that is, no thank you.”

Briggs muttered something under his breath, but didn’t push further. Instead, he busied himself restocking the now-functional bar. Meanwhile, I poured two drinks—whiskey for me, and water for Rathiel, who hadn’t developed a taste for alcohol, even the good stuff—and led us to an empty table near the back of the establishment.

We’d barely settled into our seats when Mason appeared, sliding into the chair across from me with his usual unhurried grace. His granite-grey eyes sparkled with mischief as he gave me a once-over. “Evening, princess,” he drawled.

I sighed, steeling myself. For ten years, I’d worked hard to keep my identity under wraps, only for everything to unravel spectacularly in recent days. Thankfully, Mason and Eliza were the only earthbound paranormals who knew my true identity. But I knew what they said about secrets—they never stayed quiet forever.

When I didn’t respond, Mason’s gaze slid to Rathiel, his expression turning serious. “Good to see you again. And I’m glad you’re back on your feet.”

Rathiel inclined his head slightly. They’d met a few days ago after Rathiel and I had taken out a particularly violent pack of hellspawn vampires sent by Lucifer. Rathiel had taken a blow meant for me, one that had left him knocking on death’s door. My blood had nursed him back to health—but I was trying very hard not to think about that moment.

“So, what brings you back?” Mason asked. “Just couldn’t stay away from us?”

I huffed a small laugh. “Something like that.” I set my glass down and stole a quick glance around. “Is Eliza here tonight? I was hoping to talk to both of you.”

“Oh, is this about…?” Mason’s voice dropped off as he pointed down with a grimace.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

He nodded. “I’ve seen Eliza around. You know her. She always comes in for a drink before heading out on a job. Let me text her and see where she is right now.” He pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen. It didn’t take long before a smile graced his lips. “She’s out back chatting with a few other mercs. But she says she’ll only be a few more minutes if you’re willing to wait.”

I nodded and took a sip of my drink, the booze burning in all the right ways.

Mason pocketed his phone and leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning Rathiel as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “So,” he began, tilting his head, “what’s it like being back in the land of the living? You looked pretty rough the last time we crossed paths.”

Rathiel’s expression didn’t falter, but his tone carried a hint of dry humour. “It’s an improvement, I’ll admit.”

Mason nodded. “Glad to hear it. Here’s hoping Lily doesn’t drag you into any more trouble. Though, trouble is kind of her specialty.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sitting right here, you know.”

“Exactly,” Mason said, flashing me a grin.

Rathiel gave a slight shake of his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Before I could respond, the front door swung open, and the usual din of the bar quieted. I glanced up and spotted Eliza standing in the entry, her sea-green eyes scanning the room with practiced ease. Like clockwork, heads turned. Patrons shifted in their seats, their gazes trailing her every move as though she was a magnetic force they couldn’t resist. A nearby vampire knocked over his glass, and a werewolf stumbled mid-step, his beer sloshing on to the floor. Someone nearby let out a low whistle that earned them an elbow from their companion.

I chuckled under my breath and reached for my glass, murmuring, “Every time.”

Eliza didn’t even have to try—her siren allure worked like a gravitational pull, and everyone in her orbit succumbed to it. I shot a glance at Rathiel, curious to see if she’d ensnared him. Last he’d seen her, he’d been too busy bleeding out for his blood to flow south to certain parts. But now?

Nothing. Not even a hint of distraction. Instead, he watched the room with detached observation. No slack-jawed awe, no lingering stare, just calm indifference.

Huh.

He caught me watching, and to my absolute shock, he winked. My brain short-circuited. Rathiel—the dark, broody vampire who carried centuries of angst like a badge of honour—winked. At me.

Good lord, my heart stopped dead in my chest.

“You okay there?” Mason’s voice, laced with amusement, broke through my stunned silence.

I forced a cough, snapping out of my trance. “Fine,” I muttered, taking a large gulp of whiskey that burned all the way down.

Eliza finally spotted us and sauntered over like she owned the place, her leather jacket swaying with every step. The lingering stares didn’t faze her. If anything, she seemed amused by them. Typical Eliza.

“Hey, girl,” she said, sitting in the last chair at the table. Her arms draped over the tabletop as her gaze took in the three of us. “I’m so happy to see you. I didn’t think you’d come back, you know, considering… everything .”

I nodded, then decided it would be best to just dive right into my request. I had a feeling it would take a fair bit of convincing to get them to agree, and I didn’t want to be here all night.

“That’s actually why I came,” I said. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table. “Things haven’t improved since we last spoke. In fact, they’ve gotten worse.”

Eliza frowned. “How could things get worse?”

I was about to launch into an explanation of everything that had gone down since I last spoke with her and Mason, then paused. A burly werewolf sat at the table next to us, nursing his drink. Except, he kept sneaking glances at Eliza, and I couldn’t have that. This conversation was for privileged ears only.

I plucked a ten-dollar bill from my jacket pocket and leaned toward the werewolf.

“Hey,” I said, flashing the bill in his face. “Eliza wants to buy you a drink, but only if you do her a favour first and put on some music. Something loud.”

The werewolf’s ears perked up, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He snatched the ten from my hand like a dog snatching a tennis ball and bolted toward the bar.

“Uh, Lily?” Eliza questioned.

I held up a hand. “Give me a second.”

The werewolf leaned over the counter, barking his order at Briggs, who fumbled with a bottle but eventually managed to pour a decent drink. Then, drink in hand, the werewolf made a beeline for the jukebox. He pawed through the options, muttering to himself, before finally jamming a toonie into the slot.

Moments later, a cheesy love ballad began pouring through the speakers. The werewolf grinned, clearly pleased with his selection. But the entire bar erupted in groans and boos. Undeterred, he took a long sip of his drink, while the patrons drowned out the saccharine crooning with renewed—and vigorous—chatter.

Perfect.

I turned my attention back to the table. “The rest of my father’s fallen angels are here,” I said quietly.

Eliza’s eyes widened, and Mason leaned forward, his usually relaxed demeanor replaced by grim focus. Last they’d seen, my father had sent some hellspawn after us. But they’d never met any of the fallen.

I drew a deep breath, preparing to drop the next bit of unpleasant news.

“Two nights ago,” I continued, my voice dropping even lower, “they killed Jack.”

“Jack?” Eliza asked, frowning.

“Prince Charming,” I clarified, using the nickname she’d given him back when I first told her about him.

Realization softened her face, quickly giving way to sympathy. “Oh, Lily. I’m so sorry.”

I forced a tight smile and avoided Rathiel’s gaze, afraid of what I’d see there. Instead, I focused on the conversation at hand. “I’ve decided that I need to take control of this situation. I can’t let them chase me through Edmonton, and I won’t let them harm anyone else. They don’t belong here.” Then I finally glanced at Rathiel. “ We don’t belong here. We’re dangerous. I’m dangerous,” I amended. “My father won’t stop until I’m dead. And I can’t— won’t —bring that battle here.”

Eliza leaned back in her chair, her brows furrowing as she digested my words. Her fingers drummed absently on the table, a telltale sign she was thinking hard. Mason, on the other hand, rubbed a hand over his jaw, his grey eyes studying me like I’d sprouted a second head. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, and their silence weighed heavily on me.

Finally, Eliza said, “So, what’s the plan, then? Because I know you, Lily. You wouldn’t be telling us all this unless you had one.”

I braced myself for their response. “Rathiel and I are going to Hell.”

Mason let out a low whistle, his gaze jumping to Rathiel. “Figuratively or literally?”

“Literally,” I answered. “I need to put an end to this. To all of it. The only way to keep Earth safe is for me to”—I stole a furtive glance around the bar before leaning in—“kill my father.”

Eliza blinked once. Twice. Then she coughed out a laugh. “Your plan is to”—she mouthed the word kill —“your dad?”

Grateful she hadn’t spoken his name, I nodded.

After a moment, she started laughing. But it wasn’t a funny, ha-ha type of laugh. More like you’ve lost your damn mind .

I waited, tapping my fingers against the rim of my glass, until she finally noticed I wasn’t laughing with her.

Her chuckles died off abruptly, and she stared at me. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” I said, resisting the urge to chuckle at the accidental pun. Somehow I didn’t think anyone else would appreciate my macabre humour.

Eliza stared at me, then waved a hand dramatically in Rathiel’s direction. “And you’re just…okay with this?”

Rathiel, calm as ever, gave her a look that somehow managed to be both polite and condescending. “No, I’m not. But according to Lily, I have no say in her decision.”

Eliza arched a brow, her incredulous stare swinging back to me. “Uh, okay?”

I shrugged. “Rathiel’s been trying to talk me out of it since day one. But this is happening. And…” I took a deep breath and plunged into the reason I came here tonight. “I was hoping—I am hoping—that you two will come with us.”

Eliza blinked, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Come with you?”

Mason didn’t look nearly as flustered, though his brow did crease slightly. “You’re asking us to march into Hell. With you.”

“That’s the gist of it,” I said, swirling the whiskey in my glass before taking another sip. Sadly, the booze didn’t do nearly enough to settle the nerves twisting in my stomach. “Look, I know this is a lot—insane, even—but I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think it was necessary. Rathiel and I can’t do this alone, and you two are the only ones I trust.”

Eliza leaned back in her chair. “Wow. No pressure or anything.”

Mason rubbed his forehead, his expression tight. “Lily, this is a big ask. You’re from there. You grew up there. We all know you can fight, and I’m assuming that’s because of your upbringing. I understand you two going back—not that I like it—but why us? Why drag us into any of this? We’re not exactly suited to travel…that far south.”

“But you are,” I said. “Both of you. Eliza, you’re a trained fighter. You literally hunt and track rogue paranormals for a living. Add in your siren allure, and you could give us a huge advantage. You could act as a distraction, give us leverage in negotiations, maybe even manipulate hellspawn into working for us.”

“I don’t know if my powers will work down there,” Eliza confessed. “They don’t seem to work on you. Either of you.” She gestured toward Rathiel. “He hasn’t once glanced at my breasts or smiled at me in adoration. Nothing that would suggest I could lure him. And you’ve never reacted to my powers, either. What if all the hellspawn are immune?”

Rathiel cleared his throat. “Lily and I are more than hellspawn. We’re celestials. Or, she is, at least.”

“Celestials,” Eliza repeated, her face blanching. “That’s another good point. You want us to go up against literal angels.”

“Well, fallen,” I clarified.

“And the difference is?”

“Unholy versus holy nature?” I said, really not sure what else to say. It wasn’t like I knew many angels.

“What about me?” Mason asked. “How would I be of any help?”

I was about to answer when the song stopped. I waited for the next one to pick up before I resumed. I kept my voice steady, but low enough not to draw attention. “Mason, you can see magical energies. You could see the gate itself. You can see our auras. I have a feeling there’s a lot more you could see. Traps, barriers, hellspawn? Anything that could give us a leg-up down there is beneficial.”

He didn’t respond, but the tightening of his jaw told me he was at least considering it.

“So basically, Mason’s a magic radar, and I’m a walking charm bomb?” Eliza asked.

“Yes,” I said bluntly.

She opened her mouth to argue but then snapped it shut, her expression thoughtful. Mason, on the other hand, leaned forward. “And what happens if we say no?”

“Then you say no,” I told them. “I would never force you to do something you weren’t comfortable with. This is an insane ask, and I recognize that. I don’t blame you if you want nothing to do with my family drama.”

“But you’ll still go,” Mason said, more a statement than a question.

I nodded. “Yes. I have to.”

For a long moment, no one at the table spoke. Finally, Eliza sighed, running a hand through her dark hair.

“I’m in,” she said. “Call me crazy, but I’m in.”

Mason leaned back again, crossing his arms as he fixed me with a steady gaze. His eyes shot to Rathiel before landing back on me. He let out a long breath, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“No,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Eliza snapped her head toward him, her jaw dropping. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no,” Mason repeated, his tone unyielding. “I’m not going down there, Eliza. I know more about this stuff than you do. You may not realize what you’re getting yourself into, but I do. This isn’t just a dangerous merc job—it’s suicide. And Lily’s father isn’t some random tyrant she can overthrow with a clever plan and a handful of allies. He’s the king of Hell. The Morningstar. The literal Devil. And the entire realm bows to his every command.”

I flinched at his words—apparently we weren’t mincing them anymore. But he also had a point. No matter how much I wanted to believe I could win this, Mason had just laid out the cold, brutal reality. And hearing it spoken aloud was like a knife to the ribs.

Mason sighed, his expression softening. “Lily, I care about you. But I’m nothing like you, Eliza, or Rathiel. I’m not a fighter. You’re talking about war, and I would be your weak link down there. I would get you killed trying to protect me.”

Eliza’s brows knit together. “So, what, you’re just going to let her go down there without backup?”

“She’s not going alone,” Mason said gently, gesturing toward Rathiel. “She’s got him. And now you. And she’s got herself. Lily is stronger than both of us, and we all know it. That’s why she’s going in the first place.”

I stared at him, surprised by the conviction in his voice. “You think I can do this?”

“I think you’re the only one who can,” Mason said, his eyes meeting mine. “But that doesn’t mean I’m throwing myself into the fire. I’m not built for that kind of fight, Lily. I’ll only slow you down, and we both know it.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but he wasn’t. Mason had never been a fighter. His strength lay in his intellect, his ability to see things others couldn’t. Asking him to march into Hell was asking him to sacrifice his life.

“Fair enough,” I said softly. “I appreciate your honesty, Mason. Really.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. “For what it’s worth, I’ll do everything I can from here. Keep an eye on the gate, make sure nothing slips through while you’re down there. If you need a safe place to regroup, you know where to find me.”

I reached across the table and took Eliza’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Are you absolutely sure? I wouldn’t blame you if you stayed with Mason.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded firmly. “I’m sure. I’m not letting you go through this alone.”

“She’s not alone,” Rathiel stated.

Eliza gave a half-smile, but didn’t respond.

I gave her hand another squeeze, then released it. “Thank you.”

“Hey, what are friends for, right?”

Draining the rest of my drink, I set the glass down with a decisive clink. “All right then. Here’s the plan. We’ll meet at the gate in two days. Pack light—clothes, weapons, the basics. I’ll take care of the gear and supplies.”

Eliza nodded, her gaze roaming the bar, as though committing it to memory. She stood. “Guess I better get moving. I’ve got a job, and then I’ve gotta start packing.”

Yes, I knew that feeling well.

“Two days,” I reminded her.

“Two days,” she echoed, her voice quieter now. She glanced at Mason, offering him a weak smile. When she left, the bar’s atmosphere returned to normal.

We sat in silence for a moment before Mason looked at me. “You’re really doing this.”

“I have to,” I said.

His gaze lingered on me, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. Finally, he reached out, resting a hand briefly on my arm. “Try not to get yourself killed, princess.”

I gave him a faint, crooked smile. “I’ll do my best.”

We all stood, and Mason turned to Rathiel, extending a hand. “Take care of her.”

They shook hands, then Rathiel and I moved toward the exit. Once dressed in our coats, we stepped outside, and the chill night air hit me like a wake-up call. The weight of what lay ahead settled heavily on my shoulders, but there was no turning back.

We were going to Hell—literally. And if things went sideways, it could very well be the end of us all. But I’d made my choice. We would storm into Hell, raise a rebellion, and destroy my father.

Even if it killed us.