Page 87 of Hell and High Water

HELLENA

“Why don't we step inside? See what you think of the place.” Her voice is sharp, but icy cool, with a hint of a Southern accent.

My back straightens, tightening as I feel the cold steel of the gun against my neck. It makes me feel panicked. It was a mistake to come here.

My heart is pounding, my mouth instantly dry.

Stay calm.

Find out why you’re here. She wouldn’t have lured me out here just to kill me when she knew where I was hiding, right?

I swallow, trying to force myself to think. “I have no clue where we are. And for the record, I think the place looks like shit. Not that it matters.”

“It could matter.”

“Stop acting like you have some almighty upper hand here,” I growl, keeping my hands up.

“I always have the upper hand. Don’t forget it.” She’s a cocky one, that’s for sure.

“Good for you. You got me. Was that your plan, to show me up? I came. Alone, like you said.”

“Wise. And no, I didn’t just call you out to confirm that I’m better than you. There was never a question.”

“So, what, are you going to threaten me? Torture me for information? Or are you going to actually tell me why the fuck I'm here?”

“Sassy, aren’t you?”

“I bet you don’t even know anything about my father.”

“Oh, I do know a lot about him.”

“That makes one of us. I never knew the guy.” Not really. My only memories of him are sparse, happy, but ephemeral.

“Hmm, that’s a shame. He was one of a kind. Then again…”

“Enough. Tell me what’s going on. And while you’re at it, tell me who you are, too!” The words are all bluster. I hope I don’t sound as terrified as I am.

But it seems to work.

“My, my. You certainly are Demon Damon Michaels’s daughter. And you're saying you never really knew him?”

“None of your business, actually.”

“Actually, you, your daddy, you are all my business.”

“I only lived with him when I was really little.” I don't know why I'm admitting this to her.

She clearly seems to know my father, though, so she's already a step ahead of me.

“Go on, now. Head inside and we’ll talk.”

I turn the knob, unsurprisingly unlocked, and the door swings back. A creak squeals in the hinges, adding to the eerie quality of the early morning, the silence in the woods around us. Inside, the house is dark, creepy as hell.

I tilt my head to the side, trying to peer over my shoulder to get a look at the woman threatening me with a gun. It doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s probably the same woman who attacked Gavin and Evan. And the same person who shot me.

Although that last one might be a stretch.

But my gut’s rarely been wrong before. It’s squirming in terror right now.

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