Before she made an even bigger idiot of herself, she started to close the door, and then she blinked. Jeff had disappeared. She hadn’t seen a car, and she hadn’t even considered that he might be walking back to town, and now he was… gone.

Chalk it up to all the other weirdness.

Yeah, good plan, except that Jeff had accounted for almost everything. The dog, the grass stains, the blood.

But that didn’t explain why she’d drunk so much vodka that she couldn’t remember any of it. Or why they’d both dreamed the same thing.

Or what she’d done with the body of the dog—it had to have died, or she would have put it in one of the kennels next to the house, and they were empty.

At least the feeling that someone was watching her was no longer with her, but Cara still felt the unwelcome buzz of fear slithering over her skin. Something had happened last night to make her drink, but what? She’d never defaulted to the bottle, and if her father’s death and the night of the break-in hadn’t done it, nothing would.

She did her best to not think too hard about either the mystery of last night or Jeff and his incredible body as she cleaned her office. When she finished, she sank bonelessly to the couch, where the television was blaring the same old, same old. Mysterious diseases were cropping up like wildfires, water in at least four rivers and three lakes had become polluted with poisonous organisms, and six countries had declared war on each other, completely out of the blue. The United States government was trying to decide how involved it wanted to get, and the military was gearing up for possible deployment.

The world was going to hell in a handbasket, as her dad would have said, even as he packed his bags in preparation to move out with animal rescue groups to war-torn areas.

Slamming her hand down on the remote with more force than was necessary, she shut off the TV. She used to love the idiot box, had bought a top-of-the-line Sony theater system back when she still had money. And ambition. Almost everything in the house, in fact, was “the best.” Her drive to succeed and never settle had been a source of pride for her.

But all of that had died two years ago, along with the intruder.

Numbly, she plodded to her bedroom, where she curled up on her bed. The moment her head hit the pillow, sleep took her.

Help me!

“Hal!”

Cara shook her head. Rubbed her eyes. Wondered if she should be as aware as she was that this was a dream. Once more, she was floating around the dark basement with the caged dog, but this time, everything was more familiar. She even knew the pup’s name was Hal. Short for Halitosis.

Find me.

And again, the animal seemed to be one bark short of a dog. “I’ve found you.”

Hal’s red eyes glowed brighter, and his hackles snapped up. He looked like some prehistoric monster ready to tear right through the fabric of reality and destroy everything in his path. Go.

“I just got here—”

She broke off, dazzled by a bright light and the sudden appearance of a familiar blond man. When he saw her, his eyes went wide, and he lunged. His hand brushed her arm as she twisted away.

Go! If he catches you, you will be trapped here without your body. Go through the ceiling!

Without her body? Okay, that didn’t sound good. The world blurred and her body seemed to break apart as she shot upward and passed through stone, cement, and wood, and then suddenly, she was outside in the blinding light of day, and the house she’d just come out of was behind her.

Where was she?

She had to leap out of the way of a vehicle… a vehicle driving on the wrong side of the road. It had an odd license plate… She floated a little farther down the road to a sign that said Newland Park Drive, which told her nothing.

She continued along the sidewalk, and then, as if she’d struck a wall, she couldn’t go any farther. She could see beyond where she was, but she couldn’t move. She could go backward, but not forward.

Find me or we both die.

Hal’s desperate voice clanged through her head, and suddenly, she was in her house, in her bed, and not wherever she’d been in that dream. This time, she didn’t sit around in confusion. She bolted out of bed and ran down the hall to her spare bedroom, where her ancient computer hummed softly. The chair squeaked as she plopped down in it, and then she was hitting Google with a vengeance.

Newland Park Dr. Well, that search turned up about a million results, few of which were helpful, though many popped up as being in York, England. Fingers clicking, she went to Maps, and then typed Newland Park Dr. U.K.

Her heart nearly stopped when a satellite map came on the screen. It was the neighborhood she’d seen. She’d never been to England in her life, but she recognized the street, the houses. Newland Park Drive was long, and she couldn’t zoom in enough to pinpoint the house she’d come out of in her dream, but that was definitely the area where she’d been. She wondered if Jeff had dreamed the same thing. Maybe she should call him.

Find me or we both die.

She stared at the screen, her brain repeating the dream that seemed so real. It had to have been real. There was no other way she could have such explicit details about Newland Park Drive in her head.

So either she’d become psychic or she was communicating with a strange dog she didn’t even remember treating.

Who had somehow gotten to England in a matter of hours.

The things that made sense mingled with the impossible, until she felt like her sanity was stretched thin enough to snap.

Find me or we both die.

Six

“Tell me you know where Sestiel is.” Pestilence stood on a bridge that spanned the Inferno River in the Dread region of Sheoul and stared at the scarred hellhound—one of the largest f**king hounds he’d ever seen. Drool hung in a thick rope from its gaping mouth and puddled at its feet. Disgusting.

Serving as translator was a vampire member of the Carceris—demon jailers—who kept kennels of the hounds for tracking demons. He stood perilously close to the edge of the stone bridge, no doubt prepared to leap out of the way of danger if the hound—or Pestilence—decided to not play nice. “Eater of Chaos is still seeking both Sestiel and Ares, as per your agreement.”

Eater of Chaos. Stupid name for a hellhound. Not that Pestilence was going to say anything. He might hate the bastards, but he wasn’t an idiot. He was still vulnerable to their bites, and he wasn’t about to put himself at risk for potentially endless paralyzation and pain.

“Our agreement was that he incapacitate either Ares or Sestiel, and he’s done neither.”

The hellhound snarled, and beneath his enormous paws, the bridge’s basalt slabs began to steam. The creatures were extremely volatile. Even the vamp inched backward.

“Chaos indicates that there’s been a complication.” The vamp shifted his weight a couple of times. “He and his offspring were pursuing Sestiel. The Aegis interrupted…” He frowned. “I’m not sure I’m translating this right, but I think Chaos’s pup was injured, and Sestiel captured him.”

“So that’s how Sestiel is masking himself,” Pestilence mused. “He has himself a hellhound.”

“It appears so. Chaos can’t sense him. But he wants Sestiel’s heart between his jaws. He’ll get a twofer—revenge for his offspring, and Ares’s Seal broken. I think he wants to see Ares ruined as badly as you do.”

Pestilence doubted that, but he’d take what he could get.

“Find Sestiel, you mangy hound,” Pestilence said. “Find him, and when I kill him, we’ll get your kid back.”

The vamp cocked his head, listened, and nodded. “He wants what you promised him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you have Ares for thirty days.” Pestilence grinned. “He’ll be all yours.”

Pestilence couldn’t think of anything worse. He’d rather spend a year being skinned alive and having his eyes gouged out over and over than spend a single hour being defiled and eaten by a pack of hellhounds. As he watched Chaos dematerialize off the bridge, Pestilence smiled. As Reseph, he’d been repulsed by torture. As Pestilence, he craved it.

He’d definitely have to hang out for the hellhound gang-bang-slash-feast at which Ares was the guest of honor.

The Temple of Lilith.

It was a temple Ares rarely visited, but he was on a hunt, and he’d been tipped off that he’d find his quarry here.

Except “he was tipped off” would be more accurately stated as, “He had killed a false angel, a species of demon that pretended to be angels in order to lead humans astray, and gathered visions from the demon’s eyes.”

Ares descended the steps into the secret cave buried deep in the Zagros Mountains, the sounds of chanting and sex already reaching his ears and rousing his cock. Not that it took much—the damned thing was already worked up from listening to Cara’s twenty-four-hours-old voice message before he stepped in the Harrowgate to get here, and Ares was, after all, half sex demon. He was definitely not immune to the seductive energy cast off by multiple erotic acts. Hell, the temple itself was literally infused with sex, from the pornographic etchings on the walls, to the spells cast by sorcerers during orgies as the shrine was being built. Everyone who entered experienced immediate arousal that intensified with every step down into the main chamber.

This was the second temple constructed to his mother. The first, originally erected to worship Lilith as a goddess of protection, had fallen into the ruins of ancient Sumeria. Yep, she’d fooled humans for hundreds of years, soaking up their adoration, gifts, and sacrifices. She was a real piece of work, his mother.

The temple Ares was now entering recognized her for what she was: the first succubus and a seriously evil bitch.

In centuries past, people had left gifts of food at the original temple. Ironically, before Ares learned the truth about his existence, he’d gone with his human brother, Ekkad, to worship Lilith. Ekkad had asked for protection for Ares and his family. Ares had requested protection for his army, not because he didn’t believe his family needed the goddess’s help, but because Ares truly believed that he alone could safeguard them. Ekkad had laughed, calling Ares a soldier to his bones. Ekkad, whose own bones had been twisted from birth, leaving him crippled and in need of Ares’s protection despite the fact that Ekkad had been nimble of mind and one of the brightest men Ares had ever known.