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“This is it,” she whispered.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Ana replied as she stepped beside her.
Francesca grabbed her hand and Ana hissed as a shot of energy slid through her body. “Feel this,” the woman whispered.
Heat ran up her arm. It was painful and Ana yanked her hand from Francesca’s. Nervous energy barreled through her gut and her breaths fell in short, quick bursts.
“How do we do this?” she asked softly as she eyed the Harley. The painting had taken on a tinge of green as if backlit with a wash of light.
“Once I open it, you won’t have a lot of time. You get close enough and it’ll suck you in.”
“Just like that?”
Francesca nodded. “Just like that.”
Ana glanced at the large frame and loosened her stance. “Okay then.”
“Have you ever been below?” Francesca asked carefully. Sweat beaded along her forehead and her skin looked sickly. Her hands were still palm out. The thread of energy that ran from the tips of her fingers was now visible to Ana.
The vampire shook her head. “No.”
“I’ve seen glimpses.” She looked away quickly. “Since I’ve been linked to Samael, that is. He’s shown me things I don’t understand.” Francesca shook her head slowly. “It’s not at all what I expected it to be.”
&n
bsp; The tension in Ana’s belly was becoming more pronounced by the second. “Can we get on with it?”
The painting pulsated, widening and then thinning back and forth like a rubber band. Francesca looked scared. Ana gritted her teeth. That so didn’t bode well for her.
“When you get down there you need to find a place called Club Doom. That’s where I saw Samael.”
Ana looked at the necromancer in surprise. A club?
The humming vibrated into a loud shriek that swept through the room as the picture elongated. The glow was now a fiery red, the heat of it slammed against her skin. She wondered briefly if it would burn—if her vampire body could even withstand the heat.
No matter. There was no choice. She took a step forward and then another until she was inches from the portal.
Ana glanced at Francesca and the two women stared at each other for several seconds. “Be safe and bring my sister back,” the necromancer whispered.
The vampire nodded. Francesca widened her stance and closed her eyes. Ana watched as a dark hole appeared in the middle of the glowing portrait. It shimmered and within seconds enveloped the entire frame.
“Now.” Francesca’s voice was hoarse, urgent.
Ana did not hesitate. She clenched her hands together and stepped forward. Searing heat flickered along her flesh and for one brief moment such terror and fear clogged her mind that she was sure she screamed.
Then she was falling and there was nothing but darkness.
The smell of sulfur was Ana’s first impression of Hell. It was subtle, not nearly as overpowering as she’d expected, but it was there, tingling along her nasal passages.
She was on her stomach, facedown, cheek resting against a hard, flat surface. It was damp, cold. Sounds echoed in her ear—voices, conversations, and the loud thrum of music.
Her body ached and she rolled over. Slowly her eyes opened, and it took a few seconds for them to focus. She was in an alley, a narrow chasm between two large buildings.
Ana sat up and groaned. Her head was thick, her mouth fuzzy. Fog rolled in from the opening of the alley, slithering along the ground like long, clawlike fingers. Edges of gray mist sparkled, shot through with a weird green color. She pushed herself to her knees and rose.
A small squeak made her jump and nearly fall back again as she looked to the side. Two beady eyes glowed bright in the dark as a small animal sniffed at her toes and then scrambled off.
She relaxed a bit. Who knew rats existed in Hell?
