To Hell and Back by L.B. Gilbert
Chapter One
Valeria sucked in a breath, fighting through the painful stitch in her side. Blinking to clear her vision, she stumbled down the alley, nearly hitting a dumpster because she was too tired to move out of the way.
Find a place to hide. She had to find a bolt hole for a few hours so she could recover. But she was so tired. Her skin crawled, and Valeria knew she couldn’t afford to stop. The hunters were too close.
She looked down at her hands, wincing when they trembled. Fighting them off wasn’t going to be possible. Not today. She hadn’t slept in over forty-eight hours. Her last meal had been yesterday, a quick fast-food burger. It had been cheap and dry, but she had choked it down because she couldn’t wait long enough for them to fix a fresh one, although the guy behind the counter had offered.
Her stomach hurt, and her mouth was dry like sandpaper.
I need just one small safe place. A closet, a basement.Literally any place she could hole up for a few days. Hell, at this point, she’d take a couple of hours.
The alleyway abruptly spilled out onto a shop-lined street. Valeria swore under her breath as she took in the fashionable people milling around, shopping and having brunch. There were too many. Her days of melting into a crowd and disappearing were over.
These hunter cabrones had been on her trail for weeks. It was as if all the lessons her mother had taught her were meaningless. No matter what Valeria did or where she hid, they always found her. After weeks of relentless pursuit, she was running on empty, the very last dregs of her reserve gone.
A man in a tight V-neck t-shirt accidentally brushed against her. She jerked to the side to avoid touching his bare skin, then overcorrected so wildly that she almost fell. The stranger grunted and walked on, dismissing her as one of the city’s many mentally ill derelicts.
Actually, he probably thought you were drunk.
But Valeria didn’t care. Her caution was warranted. All it would take was one hunter knocking against her in a crowded street and they could stick her with a pin like a government spy taking down a target. Only this pin wouldn’t be laced with radioactive poison. That would only kill her.
Her pursuers wanted her alive.
Skirting the crowd, she scanned the various storefronts for a decent hiding place. A small jewelry store—no. An empty gallery with seascapes on the walls—also no. A crowded café—a big hellno.
Valeria was almost at the end of the block when she saw a man wearing a white shirt and beige pants. The telltale glitter of a gold cross strung around his neck winked at her, a tiny warning that said she wasn’t going to get out of this without a fight.
The stranger didn’t stand out. Anyone else paying attention would only see an average middle-aged man, someone who fit in working at a bank or an insurance company. He didn’t look like the type who sacrificed small animals in blood-laced rituals yet still wore his religion on his sleeve. But that was who and what he was. Valeria knew his face. He was one of the hunters and he was just across the street, scanning the crowd as intently as she was.
Acting on instinct, she ducked into the first doorway she saw. After the bright sunlight outside, it took a minute for her eyes to adjust.
The store was cramped and dusty. High wooden shelves were set out with narrow lanes in between, each covered with a random assortment of objects—porcelain plates, music boxes, small statuettes. The walking space was obstructed by end tables, planters, and the occasional oversized vase.
Most of the light in the store was provided by the high transom windows visible just over the jumble of furniture and crowded shelves. Heaver pieces were lined against the walls, including a tall grandfather clock and chest that obscured the storefront window.
If the hunter had seen her, she’d only have seconds before he spotted her again. Fighting the inevitable more out of habit than will, Valeria retreated further into the store, scanning the shelves for a passable weapon. She picked up a small statue, but put it back down in favor of an ornate fireplace poker she tripped over.
The ornate grip was uncomfortable, but Valeria felt a surge of renewed strength. It was false bravado, but she squeezed the handle anyway, crouching so the top of her head was below the highest shelf.
Minutes crawled by, but the jangly bell attached to the door remained silent. Her knees were aching when she finally relaxed enough to stand.
Catching a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye, she parted her lips to scream. Reacting with sluggish and shaky movements, she reached for her weapon before realizing she was staring at herself.
Stupid mirror. Her reflection had almost given her a heart attack. Giving herself a little shake, she slumped, lowering the poker. The oval, antique looking glass was hazy, her bedraggled reflection dark and streaky.
More than likely, it was backed with silver. So, you will see your enemy, the vampire, and know who they are… Her mother’s voice was so clear in her mind it was almost as if she was in the same room.
Ravenna had taught her about magic and the metals that disrupted it. Platinum was the best but too expensive, so silver was the most common. Gold would also work in a pinch, but anything gold was as out of her reach as platinum.
No one backed mirrors in silver anymore, which must have been a relief to the vampire population.
Swaying, she reached out to steady herself by holding the frame. Mierda. She looked like death warmed over. Her hair was lanky and in greasy clumps, her cheeks sunken from too many missed meals. She could probably fit all her belongings in the bags under her eyes.
Valeria must have been more tired than she thought because the image in the mirror wavered. Eyes watering, she blinked to clear them, but the image only darkened, swirling as if there were a storm trapped inside. A shadow coalesced and a man appeared out of the depths, his dark eyes burning as if he were staring through her.
Whirling around, she raised the poker, ready to make a desperate last stand against this new assailant, but there was no one there. Her head snapped back to the mirror.
The man was still there in the reflection. It’s official. I’ve gone mad.
Scrubbing her face, Valeria tried to make the apparition go away. But the stubborn hallucination stayed right where it was. Lips parting, she stepped closer to the darkened surface of the mirror. She wasn’t reflected at all anymore. There was only the muscular, dark-haired stranger with those coal-colored eyes that seemed to glint with flecks of glowing red and orange.
Who had eyes like that?
Valeria stared at the warrior, mesmerized. And that was what he was—a fighter. It was in every line of his body, in the harshly carved lines of his face. The intensity of that ember-filled gaze made her shiver.
The man flickered suddenly. A swirl of wings and scales made her eyes water before fire flowed over the surface of the mirror. But it was gone before she was sure of it. The man snapped back into focus once more, his unyielding expression making her muscles tense in an instinctive fight-or-flight response.
If this man were real, Valeria knew she had to stay far away from him. He was no one she wanted to meet.
But then the warrior turned to stare directly at her. Blood draining from her face Valeria flinched, throwing her arms up into the air. But she didn’t accidentally strike anyone. The mirror wasn’t revealing a cloaked hunter. She was alone.
Was it some sort of video feed? Valeria waved a hand in front of her. The man in the mirror didn’t react to the movement.
Okay, so this was a non-interactive hallucination. She could handle that. Eating her last energy bar might be enough to get rid of him. On that note, her stomach rumbled. Disregarding the extraordinary in favor of the mundane, she dug through her pockets for the high-calorie nutrition bar.
That act may have broken the spell. Between one blink and the next, the outlandish vision disappeared, leaving the overcrowded junk shop in its place.