Sorcha had been nonplussed when Tavin announced he was going with her. She hadn’t anticipated it, and it put her in an untenable spot. She wanted him by her side, but she also wanted him safe. The two didn’t match up.

But here they were.

He can take care of himself. She turned her attention to the task ahead. If anyone had suggested she’d volunteer to head back into Hell, she’d have told them they’d lost their mind.

It’s the only way.

Maybe not the only one, she corrected herself, but surely the quickest approach.

They came out in a deeply shadowed alcove not far from the liminal boundary. She’d picked this spot because it partially hid them from view, and she didn’t want to waste any magic she didn’t have to on things like invisibility spells.

Once the teleport magic quit vibrating around them, Tavin gripped her upper arm. “Talk to me, lass.”

She nodded brusquely. “We enter through the tunnel. I’ll extend my platform so you have something to walk on.”

“I can build my own. Couldn’t have done it as a bird, but it will be easy enough when I have access to my full power. Probably better that way. We can separate our presences behind individual warding.”

She frowned, considering it. “All right. Might work since I wasn’t planning to ward myself.”

His hand tightened to the point of pain. “What do ye mean, not ward yourself? What? Are ye planning to waltz in there and offer yourself up like a plucked goose ripe for the table?” He’d switched to Gaelic, which was a clue how upset he was.

Sorcha leveled her gaze at him. “You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry.” He loosened his hold but didn’t let go.

“I know where the demons are. There are only three of them. I can take them out easily, but not if I’m wasting magic on a ward. Meanwhile, it will provide a diversion, and you’ll waltz through. I’ll meet you on the far side of the guards’ station.”

“I’m not in the habit of scuttling to safety while someone else fights my battles.”

She wrenched out of his grasp and planted herself squarely in front of him. “This is my plan. My mission. You said you were coming, but I’ll be damned if I’ll fight you every step of the way. I know Hell. You don’t.” Sorcha glared at him, determined to win the upper hand. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she couldn’t argue with him at every turn.

If she had to, this project was doomed from the gate.

Tavin nodded tersely. “All right. But if ye run into problems, I’ll not stand on the sidelines and let you be captured—or killed.”

She raised a brow. “Captured. Satan will want to make an example of me. Suffering is kind of his gig, and the dead don’t suffer. Not much, anyway. Besides, it’s fucking hard to kill me between the demon and witch blood.”

She didn’t want to waste any more time, so she started for the liminal boundary with Tavin right behind her. The same malevolence that had tipped her off to its existence hadn’t abated. If anything, the stench of rot and brimstone was stronger to her demon-enhanced senses.

Humans were damned lucky to be immune to smelling shit like this.

They ducked inside, and she crafted a small float to keep her above the molten metal. This time it smelled more like bronze than copper, but at least it was a clean smell. Not that it did much to counter Hell’s reek, but she welcomed any assistance.

Next to her, Tavin created his own platform. He worked fast. Maybe because he was scared, but more likely because he was still furious with her. Men didn’t like ballsy women, and she’d jerked the reins out of his hand.

Couldn’t be helped.

Her sense of his presence vanished. “Perfect. Nice work.”

He grunted something unintelligible in telepathy, but it reinforced her theory he was less than pleased with her.

Sorcha started through the tunnel. Her familiar’s magic pulsed brightly within her, and she blessed its unwavering presence. She started to search for Tavin but chided herself for splitting her attention. It wasn’t a good idea. Plus, if she sent magic in any direction, it was like waving a flag in front of a bull.

The passage stretched before her. She passed the spot where she’d hidden last time as she eavesdropped on the demons. Sorcha stopped long enough to listen, but the sound of voices was absent. Did it mean they weren’t there? Or only that they weren’t in a chatty mood. Demons didn’t sleep much. Nor did they read. It made chores like guard duty onerous.

She slowed down after she went around the ninety-degree bend in the passage and readied destructive power. Assuming there was more than a single guard, the first one would go down easy, but once he fell on his face, it would alert whoever else was there.

She wouldn’t even try to kill them. Talk about a power drain. But she could immobilize them for several hours. If she was careful, they’d never know what had hit them once they woke. Sorcha aimed for caution. Last thing she needed were a couple of gossipy demons running to Satan with tales they’d seen her.

Something like that could make escaping Hell much harder since the Dark Lord would turn his domain inside out hunting her. If he hadn’t bothered to change the gate passcode, he’d remedy that little oversight now.

She balanced power between her hands, watching it arc back and forth. The closer she got to where the guards had been, the surer she was there weren’t any. She wasn’t warded, and magic flaring around her would have alerted them. Running wide open, she punched forward.

Two demons lay on their backs, obviously unconscious.

What the fucking hell had happened? No one took on demons unless they had to. Never one to kick a gift horse in the teeth, she raced across the clearing. The molten metal was gone. It only extended from the guards’ post to the liminal boundary. Made things easier, and she withdrew the magic powering her float.

As he’d promised, Tavin was waiting on the other side. “Hurry,” he urged. “We’re doing well so far.”

Understanding walloped her between the eyes. “You flattened them.”

“Who else?” He sounded insufferably smug.

“It wasn’t the plan—” she began, but ended with, “Never mind.”

“Stealth and magic go a long way.”

“Not the point. We had a plan.”

“Nay, ye had a plan. I tried something afore ye arrived. It worked. Now can we get moving?”

Sorcha recognized wisdom when she heard it. She reeled in her temper. Never her longest suit, it conceded ground slowly.

“The tunnel branches just ahead,” Tavin went on.

“We’ll want the one heading down.” Derision lined her words. Guilt followed on its heels. Tavin was just being Tavin. She should value him, not pick every little thing to pieces.

“They both do,” he pointed out in a neutral tone.

She hurried ahead to look for herself. Sure enough, two downward canting trails came into view. She walked a little way along each, sniffing. One was far better used than the other. Had to be the right way.

Tavin joined her. “Aren’t you going to ward yourself?”

“I hadn’t forgotten.” She dragged magic around her to mask the witchy parts. The demon segment would blend right in.

“How far?”

“Not very. Look, Tavin. No heroics. Stay behind me. As you pointed out, I know where I’m going, and we’ll be shadowing Satan and his princes in hopes we’ll hear something.”

“I’ll be good. Promise.” Understated humor ran beneath his words.

“We can’t talk from here on in. No telepathy. Nothing.”

“I understand.”

Sorcha could have hugged him. Instead, she moved forward at a brisk pace. Her favorite hiding spot had been in a small system of interlocking byways that paralleled Hell’s main streets. She’d tried to imagine who would have had the balls to build them and finally decided Satan himself was the only logical choice. He ruled with an iron hand and a zero tolerance policy for anything that smacked of disloyalty.

Spying stations were how he kept an eye on his subjects.

Except he’d grown lazy and rarely used them anymore. She’d never run into him on her forays to gather information. Hell, its totality, weighed on her soul. She’d hated it here. The only bright spot had been her endless plotting to find a way out.

And now I’m back.

She swallowed hard. This wasn’t a place to think too long or too hard about anything. If she did, fear would creep in. Before, she’d been one of many dissatisfied conscripts filling Hell’s halls. No one paid her much heed. Her escape changed all that. If anyone spotted her, she’d become an example of what happened to anyone who had the temerity to thwart Satan.

Only if I get caught. Her mind voice was thin and shaky. Sorcha gave herself a sharp mental slap. She’d never been apprehended before. No reason for today to be any different.

She couldn’t feel Tavin but assumed he was still right behind her. If anything bad had happened, it would have created a commotion. Years had passed, but she still knew the way, and she guided them first into Hell proper and then up a flight of crumbling stairs to a boardwalk laid between brimstone posts.

They were close now. Satan’s wickedness surrounded her, making her skin prickle and her blood run cold. She’d adapted to always being afraid when she lived here, but she’d lost her competitive edge.

No reason she couldn’t tap into it again.

Sorcha closed her heart and soul to everything but getting into position to spy on Satan. Voices reached her. Demonspeak interspersed with diabolical laughter. She edged near enough to see Satan’s favorite chamber. Perpetual fires burned at both ends of the oblong space and raced up and down the walls. Like all of Hell, the floor was dirt. What a difference from Sean’s castle. No art objects here. No finely crafted rugs. Barely any furniture. Satan sat in the only chair in the room, a battered wooden affair that looked as if it had come from a junkyard. Everyone else stood.

Something had obviously happened, and Satan was pleased. He rarely laughed that long or hard about anything. Sorcha moved a little closer. Not nearly as close as she used to, but near enough.

“Brilliant,” Satan crowed.

“It was inspired, sir,” someone agreed.

“When the Kelpies return, make certain to reward them,” Satan went on.

Sorcha wanted to fist pump the air. She’d guessed right, but then all Kelpies lived in Hell. When they weren’t out doing Satan’s bidding. The thought stopped her dead. Was Rhea in cahoots with Satan? It was a possibility since she’d been gifted two Kelpies to help her.

“I’ll do that, sir. They might be back now.”

Come on, Sorcha urged silently. Back from where?

“Probably not,” Satan said smoothly. “I told that pesky witch to pick a distant borderworld. I’m sick of her bothering me, and this way, her captives will stay put.”

“Erm, I’m fairly certain she didn’t heed your instructions, master,” another voice cut in.

“Why not?” Satan thundered.

Sorcha rolled her eyes. His good moods never lasted long.

“Because I heard from Xera that the Kelpies are already back.”

Satan’s roar of displeasure was followed by hordes of minions running toward him, all of them inquiring how they could help. Sorcha bit back a smile. At least one thing about Hell hadn’t changed one whit. It was still chockful of ass-kissers.

“Bring a Kelpie here. Now,” Satan bellowed.

It must have been close because one galloped into Satan’s meeting room a few moments later.

“What are you planning on doing?” Satan sneered. “Neighing in my face?”

Amid the noise of tearing skin and breaking bones, the black horse shifted to human. She’d never seen the transformation before. Hooves were just plain perverse in place of feet. How did Kelpies ever lure women looking like that?

“Apologies, sir.” The Kelpie bowed low. Long black hair fell to his knees, shielding most of his nakedness. He straightened but kept his dark eyes downcast.

“Where did you leave the witch and her captives?”

“Gamma Four, sir.”

“Fuck all of you! Why does no one follow my instructions?” Satan was still screaming with enough decibels Sorcha covered her ears.

The Kelpie stood taller. “With all due respect, sir, all you told me was—”

“Get out. Now!”

“As you wish.” The Kelpie turned and trotted from the room, its hooves making a clopping sound against the dirt.

Sorcha slithered backward, intent on leaving. The passageway wasn’t tall enough to stand, so she remained on her belly. They had what they needed. Now all they had to do was see if Hell’s gates would still yield to her. Skidding and sliding, she hurried away from Satan, who was still ranting at the top of his lungs. His tempers were legendary for a reason, and she didn’t need to hear any more.

She put some distance between them and Satan’s group of lackeys, hopefully enough. If anyone had noticed her or Tavin, they’d have come after them by now. After a few twists and turns she emerged into a hallway. Standing was a luxury after being bent into a pretzel for so long.

Sorcha took a chance. Telepathy was the smallest magic she knew, the least likely to be detected. “Tavin?”

“Aye?”

She didn’t need to say anything else. He was still next to her. She hurried to where the exit used to be and found a blank wall of crooked gray stones. What the fuck had happened? Sorcha stood and stared at the wall for long moments.

“What?” Tavin breathed the word into her mind.

She started for the stones, intent on seeing if they were illusion but changed her mind at the last moment. It would be very like Satan to set a trap, create something that looked different to everyone who gazed at it. The gates may well lie behind the wall, but she’d be worse than a fool to test it. She bet her last farthing the thing was booby trapped.

Apparently, her impromptu exit from Hell hadn’t escaped notice. Satan might be a lazy bastard, but he didn’t appreciate being duped.

Yeah. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.

Two possibilities remained. They could retreat the way they’d come in. It was probably smartest, but not especially quick. Or they could teleport. Maybe. An idea blasted into her mind. Best of both worlds.

“Change of plans,” she said and scurried toward the tunnel leading to John O’Groats.

They were perhaps halfway there when Tavin’s terse, “Hold up,” stopped her. She backtracked until she saw what had alerted him. A side channel that looked a whole lot like the one they’d traversed earlier. Made sense. According to Sean’s map, many portals crisscrossed Scotland.

She didn’t believe in coincidences. Tavin had unearthed this trail for a reason. Question was what? It could be a good thing for them, or another of Satan’s infernal tricks. Quite the jokester, Satan.

She ducked beneath the low lintel. After twenty meters, she risked a small shot of seeking magic. The corridor wound upward and appeared promising. Regardless, she stopped to caucus with Tavin.

“I think this goes,” she said, keeping her voice low. Telepathy was far less of a risk with tons of stone around them than within Satan’s halls, but no one could hear her spoken voice, either.

“What happened to the main gate?”

“No idea,” she whispered back. “Either moved or gone or hidden behind illusion. Felt sketchy.”

“This should take us out of here. I checked as best I could.”

“The safest course is to retrace our steps.”

“Aye,” he replied. “But this is faster, and now that we know where Arlen and Kat are…”

He didn’t have to say any more.

She checked her warding and bolted up the increasingly steep incline. If the other passage was guarded, like as not this one would be too, but she’d deal with whatever stood in their way. Once they located the demon guards, they’d be almost back on Earth.

Voices reached her. As she’d expected, this contingent of sentries were very much alive. From the sound of it, they were engaged in a game of either cards or dice. She listened long enough to decide only two demons guarded this portal. The next part would have to happen fast. Before, she’d started unwarded, so nothing changed in the warp or weft of power to alert the guards.

Not that it mattered. Tavin had taken care of them. She wanted to push him aside, tell him it was her turn for a spot of fun, but she had no idea where he was.

Sorcha crept closer to the voices. One more bend in the passageway and she’d be able to see them. Because she had to know what she faced, she risked moving nearer still. Her eyes widened. Not two demons, but four. The other two were lashed to boulders with lengths of iron chain.

What the fucking hell?

Had Satan authorized this punishment? Or were these rogue demons who’d taken matters into their own hands—or claws. It happened. Someone didn’t care for one of Satan’s edicts, so they meted out punishment in His stead.

Doesn’t matter. The other two won’t be a problem.

She let power build between her hands. One of the demons slapped the dice cup down in the dirt and whipped his head around. “Who’s that?” he demanded.

“Bugger off, El,” the other demon said. “You’re having girl dreams.”

“I felt something,” El insisted.

Sorcha tossed her warding aside and ran forward, magic blazing from her outstretched hands. Recognition flickered in El’s red-rimmed eyes, but her spell would take care of that.

Dark, jagged lightning flared from El and his buddy, but she sidestepped it neatly. These were minor demons with minimal power at best. She blasted first one and then the other, leaping nimbly over their puny blows.

Both demons fell onto their sides. Tavin flashed into view next to her. No reason for him to remain warded, either. “What do ye want to do about those two?” He jerked a thumb at the bound demons.

“Free us,” one demanded.

“Aye,” the other chimed in. “We’ll keep your dirty little secret. We’ll be far too busy giving our friends a taste of their own medicine.”

“No friends in Hell,” Sorcha taunted.

“Say.” One narrowed his beady red eyes. “You look familiar. Aren’t you—?”

Tavin blasted him with magic before he finished his sentence.

Sorcha took out the other one. They wouldn’t remember jack when they woke up. As an added bonus, she broke their chains. At least it would be a fair fight this time—if they woke first.

“Come on.” Tavin was on the far side of the guards’ post.

She ran lightly after him. This passage didn’t feature a molten floor, so they made good time. The unused saber rattled against her leg. It had been inconvenient crawling around in her vantage point above Satan’s chamber, making sure the length of steel didn’t clang against anything and give them away. Regardless, carting it along provided a psychological boost. Nothing like knowing you had the perfect weapon if your magic wasn’t enough.

“Focus on the exit actually being there, lass,” Tavin instructed.

She understood. No blood trail to lead them out of Wonderland this time around. He fed magic ahead of them, lighting the way. She threaded hers in with it, visualizing freedom. Maybe it was their combined skills, but one moment they were in the passageway, the next it vanished, and the clean, sweet air of Earth hit her square in the face.

Reaching the far side of the liminal border was a relief even though she’d known they were safe once they dispatched the guards. She sucked air into her lungs and laughed. It was pretty bad when the polluted air of modern times was a welcome change from where she’d been.

“We did it!” She threw her arms around Tavin. Her saber clattered against his.

“We did half of it,” he corrected her. Tavin hugged her back for an instant, but then let her go. Magic built as he crafted a teleport casting.

“Are we headed for Gamma Four?” she asked, intuiting his intent.

“Aye, but first we’re stopping at Sean’s. If anyone’s there, we’ll tell them where Arlen is. We’ll also raise the alarm with every Druid within telepathy range.”

“And then we’re going to Gamma Four,” she pressed, eager for a showdown with Rhea. The old bitch had dogged her forever, and she was done running.

“Aye, darling. Ye’ll get your war.”

“Who said I wanted a war?”

“Ye dinna have to say aught. I understand you. Sharing power as intimately as we do has…side benefits.”

“Good.” She was smiling when his teleport spell spirited them back to Inverness.