Cyra screamed over and over, her throat raw. The horror in front of her rattled her to the core. Gunn had fallen into the portal to Hell and emptiness swallowed her. She recoiled, unable to stop shaking. Her grandpa used to say life was full of love and happiness, but that was all bullshit. Losing anyone close to her tore her apart, and she was sick of grieving for her parents, her grandpa, and now Gunn. She sucked in a hitched breath. Her stomach hurt so bad.

A snarl came from the kitchen’s entrance, and the charred demon blurred behind her tears.

Bastard. “You took Gunn from me!”

Tentacles splayed outward from its human-like figure and it lifted a clawed hand, calling to her with a curled finger. Then it pointed to the open portal.

An icy dread pinched in her chest as she pictured the demon chewing on her soul. Followed by Henry’s and Nora’s. No one would find them or know what had happened. She’d never see Chase again. What about Gunn? He drove her insane, and despite him pushing her away, she understood his sacrifice. God, did she understand it. This industry was devastating and terrifying, but backing down wasn’t a possibility. Not when her grandpa’s words whirred in her skull about always fighting fiercely for anything she believed in.

Tapping her pockets, she touched her lighter. Goosebumps coated her flesh as the hideous fiend studied her, unmoving. Was it determining how to best torture her? Well, too late for that.

When that fuckhead had kidnapped her earlier, it hadn’t even tossed her into Hell but had kept her in a dark room and attacked her like a gutless beast. She glanced at her shoulder, blood and flesh torn from a bite mark. The piercing sting brought with it a newfound adrenaline. No way would she allow it to take her life. She shifted toward the fridge, gaining a view of the counter behind the portal, scanning for a weapon.

“Mine,” the demon growled, sounding more like a dog attempting to talk.

She opened her mouth, but only a squeak came out. Shit! Maybe she ought to save her voice to do magic. With her spine straightened, she spotted the candlelight glinting off something in the sink. She squinted and made out the Morgana box, burned and smoking. That explained the electrical stink. She guessed Gunn would have blessed it, so why was the speck still alive?

Her fists curled. “You’re sending out mixed signals, creep. Do you want me to go to Hell or back into your depraved black room?” The Morgana box. What had they missed? But a flash drew her attention across the room.

She spun as a hand clutched her neck and slammed her back against the fridge.

Trembling, she jerked for escape, gulping for air, and scratched at her enemy’s iron grip.

She kicked and stared into yellow eyes with no pupils, loathing how she quivered in its presence. With a free hand, she reached for the lighter in her pocket and in her mind’s eye imagined an invisible flamethrower, having seen someone do this before online. Her head buzzed from a lack of oxygen.

Stars danced in her vision, and she thrummed with every beat of her heart, part of her screaming to surrender, to stop fighting. But she kept picturing Gunn and how he never gave up, how even after losing his girlfriend, he’d kept going. And she would too. With all her thoughts focused on the lighter, she repeated in her mind, Give me strength. Fire and wind, I call for your intervention.

When a tiny spark arched down her arm, she flicked the lighter on. At once, a blaze expelled outward in a long stream resembling a flamethrower. Flames licked the demon’s face and neck. The beast’s screams were rusty, screeching hinges.

Just when the anaconda fingers loosened from around her neck, fire stung the tips of her fingers. She flinched, dropping the lighter, and fell. But she caught sight of an amber glow of the demon’s necklace, decorated with leaves and tiny balls.

Berries!

She hit the floor, her legs twisting beneath her. With a thump, she ignored the pain lancing up her back and scrambled to her feet, staring at the beast that grunted, glaring her way.

Shit! Mistletoe hung off its neck. Her spell must have tethered itself to the demon. That was what had kept it tied to the house after the Morgana box had been wrecked. And until she finished her reversal hex, the demon would remain unbeatable, killing everyone in the house. That truth sat quietly in her mind, eroding her confidence. She fought the terror squeezing her lungs by telling herself she could fix it. Her mind refused to process the danger and kept failing over and over, unable to come up with an action plan.

She scooted past the demon, which batted at its flamed face, and raced to the counter. Her gaze jumped from the Morgana box in the sink to her bowl of contents from the hex. The universe was mocking her because there was no soil in the house for her to complete her incantation.

Think! How was she meant to help Gunn? Or Henry and Nora? They’d all lose their souls because of her mistake. She shouldn’t have done an amplifying spell. Or doubted Gunn’s insistence to let him deal with the house. Now she was responsible for his death. Her breaths sped and she wiped her sweaty palms down her pants.

The demon made a popping sound that had the hairs on her nape lifting. She jerked around as it stomped closer, claws scraping the fridge, leaving huge gouges in its path, tentacles swinging wildly.

No time to think. Try something… anything.

There was only one place she’d seen any loose soil at all since coming into his goddamn house. Oh, God! Why had it come to this?

Nervous energy tingled through her, gathering in her toes. Without thinking, she snatched the bowl, then rushed around the other side of the portal and faced the front.

No hesitation, despite her heart banging into her rib cage, ready to break free. Her head spun, nausea swaying through her in waves. She tucked the bowl under her shirt. “Please let this work.”

For Gunn, Henry, and Nora!

She hurled herself into the darkened mouth of Hell, her body tense.

Something tugged on her hair, yanking her backward. She flayed one arm out for balance, the other clasping the bowl to her stomach. She smacked the edge of the portal with her butt, the agony slicing her insides, her hand pulling her hair to free herself. Never in a billion years did she think she’d fight a monster to get into Hell. Because that was what her life had come down to.

The demon hovered above her, a black mouth opening, fangs extending.

Holy shit!

Death flashed before her eyes, the image of her being ripped apart by those knives, and the thought reminded her of her own weapon. She bent her knee, tucked a heel against her butt, and reached for her ankle. With a swipe, she retrieved the blade that she carried everywhere and had empowered with protection at home. She jammed it upward, stabbing the underside of the demon’s chin, the action creating a slurping sound. She drove it all the way inside.

Tentacles beat the air, catching her on the face and all over her body. She cowered, covering her head, as each sting had her crying out. The monster stumbled backward, prying her blade free.

Time to get up. She dove into the pits of Hell without a hint of hesitation.

Choosing between facing off with a demon and entering Hell, the odds of survival were close to zero no matter which way she went. But at least this way she’d save Henry and Nora. And just maybe she’d see Gunn one more time.

It was the craziest stunt she’d ever pulled, and fear spiked into her chest. Freefalling through the darkness, in no time she hit the ground with a splat on her back onto a thick layer of dried leaves, which cushioned her fall. Every damn thing hurt, even her pinkie toes. She winced and pulled out the bowl from under her top, bits of the contents stuck to the fabric.

On her feet, she stumbled on jelly legs. The familiar inferno consumed her, and she heaved each breath, hating that she’d used the word “familiar” to describe Hell. At least this time she hadn’t landed in a heap of body parts, which lay several feet away, along with the table from Henry and Nora’s kitchen.

She whirled around, surveying the dead, gnarled trees reflecting an orange glow from the fiery skies. “Gunn. Where are you?”

No reply.

She fell to her knees at the base of a weird-ass shaped tree and set her bowl down. With a dead branch, she dug into the dried soil, but it snapped in half, crumbling in her fingers. So with a sharp rock, she plowed the ground. When she’d dug a hole at least a foot deep, she tossed the remnants of her reversal spell inside and filled the grave. Okay. After a quick check to ensure nothing was sneaking up on her, she closed her eyes and concentrated while her palms hovered inches above the burial.

“I take away the hex placed on the house. I undo what has been done. All should return to normal. As a last token, I offer you a drink.” She patted the ground, then snapped open her eyes. “Hell, no.” She’d forgotten the water!

The earlier strangulation returned, the one where her head danced. “Why do I keep making mistakes?” Saliva wouldn’t work; the water had to be untainted. The surrounding forest was decayed and brittle. Maybe if she found a creek. She broke into a run to where she’d seen the castle on the mountain and rivers during her last visit. If she got out alive, she never wanted to face a demon again. Sitting behind a desk and creating hexes to demolish them sounded magnificent.

Five minutes into her run, the distinct grunt of a dog found her.

She numbed and halted, ducking behind a tree. Several yards away, Gunn ran through the woods, darting across her path. His T-shirt was half torn off him and blood smeared his chest. Three dark figures pursued him, and she gasped.

“Gunn!” She waved a hand in the air.

He turned and careened in her direction. “Run! Run!” Desperation crammed in his widened gaze.

She did just that and when he reached her, he blurted, “We’re in so much fucked-up shit!”

Her feet slipped on the dried leaves as she rounded a trunk, a sharp sting coiling in her ankle. Gunn caught her arms and steadied her. Run faster.

Each footfall sent a jarring shot of pain to her knee. Failure wasn’t an option, not when the price to pay involved losing her soul. There had to be a way out.

Behind them, the hellhounds panted.

Her breaths came out in small spurts, burning and nervous. “I need water for the reverse spell.”

Gunn didn’t say a word and instead fiddled with something on his belt, then handed her a small vial of holy water. “My last one.”

Her lungs pumped as they ran, she leading them back toward where she’d cast the spell. “Fuck yeah!” A quick glance behind her showed her the mutts were catching up, all three lunging forward in long strides with black eyes, mouths gaping, tongues hanging out.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked.

She gasped for air, not having time for an argument, and spotted the enormous tree shaped like a question mark. “There.”

“Be fast.” Gunn was next to her, lifting a huge branch in his hands. He swung it at the first hound, sending it reeling into another creature. He elbowed the third one in the face, but it shook its head and charged.

Cyra popped open the vial that shook in her grasp.

The sensation of blades jammed into her shoulder. She screamed. The pain was lava, owning her, dominating her, and she tumbled over. But Gunn was there, blood gushing from a wound on his neck. He slammed a rock into the hound’s head, and within a split second, he squatted and swept a leg out, tripping another beast coming for her.

Tears blurred in her eyes from fear, from seeing Gunn throwing himself into danger. She tossed the holy water onto the grave. “Return everything to how it used to be.”

A hound rounded toward her, its lips peeled back, snarling. It leaped directly for her.

All thoughts fell from her mind except one:

Finish the spell!

She clapped once, loudly, the sound echoing around them.

A spark of electricity zipped through her, so powerful it blinded her temporarily and her lungs emptied. She ducked, every muscle tense, expecting the hound to maul her. Instead, she smelled the sweet smell of flowers and lifted her gaze to a lush lawn about ten feet around her. Wait! What?

Climbing upright, she found the tree near the grave bursting with green leaves and white flowers, and a faint vanilla scent caressed her nostrils. Everything beyond the circle of greenery remained dried and dead. The hellhounds circled the perimeter, howling, crashing into an invisible wall. Gunn lay on his side several feet away on the grass, unmoving.

A screeching sound had her ducking. She glanced up as a black form hurtled down from the sky, tentacles flapping outward as if it were trying to catch its balance. The demon from the house!

She recoiled and darkness swarmed her mind, her vision, her everything. But when a snap of iciness clasped her, tearing the world out from under her, she screamed.

Her eyes snapped open, and she yelled, only to find herself drenched in sunlight in the kitchen back in the house. Glorious warmth. She’d never been happier to see the light. But was this real or an illusion?

Staggering to her feet, she found no portal. And the mistletoe vines were gone. Behind her, she spied Gunn on the floor.

Stunned, she rushed to his side and rolled him onto his back. “Gunn. Speak to me.” He had a bruised eye and gashes across his face, but he was losing major blood from a bite mark on his shoulder. She ripped off her top and tied it up under his armpit and over his arm, then applied pressure to his wound. “Please, Gunn, don’t leave me. We made it.” Her words choked up. “I saved your stubborn ass.”

She touched his neck for a pulse. It was present, but so faint she might have missed it. “Please come back.” Had he lost too much blood? She patted his chest, stomach and even his thighs, searching for other wounds. Aside from scratches, nothing else looked life-threatening. Memories of their time together filled her mind, how gentle he had been, how he’d made her feel incredible. She adored everything about him and would do anything to help him overcome his past. But she couldn’t lose him.

“You sure this is the time to feel me up?” His gravelly voice was soft and filled with sarcasm.

She launched herself onto him, straddling him, her arms tight around his neck. “Don’t you ever try dying on me again.”

He pushed himself to a sitting position, groaning with obvious pain. His attention swung to the window drenched in sunshine. “About fucking time. How did we get out of Hell?”

“We didn’t belong there. I think my spell saved us.”

“Why does it feel like a truck hit me?” He rubbed his temple.

“Looks like you might need a bath in holy water and maybe stitches,” she teased. “You took on three hellhounds. Damn, that’s insane.”

He grinned, and she brushed the drop of blood rolling down his cheek from the cut beneath his eye. “Baby girl, I’d take on all of Hell for you. Now, back to this bath. Will you be joining me?”

She burst out giggling, loving that even while in pain, he flirted. “On one condition.” When she pulled away, his fingers pressed into her back, drawing her nearer, closing the distance between them.

“And what is that?” he whispered.

“No more pushing me away. I said that if we survived, I wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.” She held on to him as he studied her. Was he going to give her an excuse again?

“I lived for too long with fear and telling myself I didn’t deserve a happy life. But you’ve shown me what an idiot I’ve been, and when I thought I’d lost you, everything became clear. I’m not wasting another second. You’re all I want.”

Her cheeks hurt from smiling, and joy spread through her chest as she stared at the guy who’d admitted to needing her. “Exactly the words I’ve dreamed of hearing.”

His laughter warmed her from her head to her toes and everywhere in between. Somehow through the darkest of times, she’d found a beaming light.

“Baby girl, I wasn’t planning on letting you go. I claimed you the first time I laid eyes on you at Chase’s place. It just took me a while to get my act together.”

He leaned closer and kissed her with a softness she hadn’t experienced before, and right then, she’d found her match. The man who adored her for who she was, knew her faults, and still wanted her. Yep, this was the perfect ending to the scariest day of her life. Now, she had to convince her brother not to strangle Gunn when she told him. No better time than on Christmas day.