Free Stranger at the Hell Gate by Ash Krafton

her." Another scraping sound. Horns pierced the flesh of his forehead, spiraling outward. Long teeth crowded his mouth "And then I'm going to rip that baby out of her gutsss, and I'm going to take him to Hell with me. Uncle Acheron will make sssure he getsss a proper education."
    Fury made Jagger's mind go completely blank. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass orb. Its contents glowed, milky white and swirly. He raised it so Acheron could see it.
    Acheron gaped, cockiness forgotten. "You wouldn't dare. We are brothersss. We are of the sssame ssseed."
    "Don't have a choice."
    "It'll dessstroy you, too." Acheron grasped the hilt and tugged, hissing and snatching his clawed hand away. "Don't be ssstupid."
    "Even if it means we both go, it's better than you staying." Jagger bit down on the cork and yanked it out. Light erupted from the neck, spilling upward in a rush of windy sound. "You killed our mother, Acheron. It's time I return the favor."
    Jagger hauled back the hand gripping the bottle. The contents spilled on his hand, burning his flesh. Steam rose from the wounds.
    The scalding pain bolstered his conviction. If it burned him—and he was half human—what would it do to a man whose heart ran backwards?
    With a scream, he threw the bottle at Acheron.
    The orb hit him on the chest, smashing in a wet shower of broken glass. The holy water burned through his clothes. Acheron's torso began to smolder, his howls of terror and pain drowned out only by the sound of redemption—the wind and the light a force that Jagger never got used to witnessing.
    Jagger sank to his knees, clutching his hand, watching the Holy Water eradicate his demon-born brother. It was a slow, stinking process but, when it was over, all that remained was a pile of singed black rags.
    Acheron was gone.
    Jagger hung his head. Although he'd always hoped that some part of Acheron could be saved, he knew Acheron had never claimed his human side the way Jagger had.
    If only.
    He closed his eyes and pressed his wounded finger to the scar over his heart, remembering his mother.
    "I'm sorry," he said into the empty room. "I wanted it to be different. I didn't—please, mother. Ask Him to be merciful. To him…and to me."
    After a moment, he pushed to his feet and yanked his sword out of the wall. Scanning the room, he saw a tiny spark of light on the floor near the place Sonya had opened the portal.
    Stooping, he saw it was the crystal she'd carried. It was intact once more. He picked it up, palmed it, felt the heat it emitted warm his palm. It felt like a promise.
    He stowed it in a pocket of his leather duster. Without as much a glance over his shoulder, Jagger left the room.
    It was finally time to go home.
    When he shouldered open the front door, Enzo nearly fell out of his chair.
    "Ionis! Get over here now!" He dropped the phone and jumped up to clap Jagger on the back. "You're back! I thought I'd lost you for good."
    Jagger pushed off the enthusiastic embrace and grinned.
    "Yeah, well." He unzipped his pocket and pulled out Sonya's crystal. "I brought you a souvenir. That way you can find me when I get lost again."
    Enzo took the proffered gem, glancing at it briefly before setting it on the desk. "So. You found her. Why didn't she come back with you?"
    "She needs time to recuperate."
    Enzo looked thoughtful. "But she's a healer."
    "She's got a lot to work on. Anyway." Jagger gestured around the room which was crowded with cardboard boxes. A banner spread across the couch read LUCKY DEVIL SECURITY . "What's going on here?"
    The agent barked out a short laugh. "Like you don't already know. The hell gate is closed, man. We've been put out of business. Ionis has resorted to working personal detail for the mayor. He hates it."
    "So would I." A chill ran down Jagger's neck and he shivered. "I don't trust politicians."
    "But you'd slay demons?"
    "Them, I trust. They always act the way you think they will. Predictable and trustworthy, every single