Dread (Gods of War Book 2)

by Shannon West

  It was probably three hours later that he woke up, feeling dry-mouthed and disoriented. Memory came back with a sickening rush. He found some Tylenol in the dash and drank two pills down with the remainder of a diet Coke Luke had left in a bottle in the console. It was getting darker outside so he got out of the truck and headed down the street to Dread’s bar, known as the Legacy Club. Only he didn’t come at it directly, choosing instead to go around the block and come at it from the rear. He found an alley that led to a back door and there he waited in the shadows for whatever was going to happen.

  Chapter Nine

  Time had always been a fluid thing to Logan, bringing people and experiences slowly past him and then sweeping them away again, with others taking their place. Those got swept away too and on and on, a never-ending floodtide that had always been too strong in the past to fight. But this time, he couldn’t stand the idea that Luke would be swept past him in a too-rapid current, like Diego had been and so many of his other friends over the years. This time he would wade in after him or drown in the attempt himself. It sounded melodramatic and stupid to say he’d rather be dead than live without Luke, but he was pretty sure that was the truth. Love had been a long time coming to Logan, and had never been a sure thing. But now that it was here, he wasn’t going to let it go, even if he had to fight the devil himself.

  The door to the basement was locked but Logan remembered it being open the night of the fight they had witnessed and people going to stand just outside it to maybe get a breath of fresh air or what passed for that in a dirty, rat-infested back alley like this one. The basement of the club was filled up with the stench of spilled liquor, stale smoke and the press of sweaty bodies, so they might even keep the door propped open to let a little of that out. Anyway, he’d wait and see if it opened soon before giving up and going in the front of the club. It would be much better to not openly announce his presence, even though he was pretty sure Dread would know he was coming. If Jackson had told him about his true nature, Dread would know that his henchmen hadn’t killed Logan, and he’d made no secret of how he felt about Luke. He was sure Dread would be expecting him.

  He hadn’t been waiting long before the door opened and a chair was propped in front of it to keep it that way. It was almost ten o’clock by Logan’s watch, about the time the fights had started the night he’d been there. He waited as quietly as he could in the dark alley, hoping to see Jackson come outside at some point. In the meantime, he listened to the sounds drifting through the door, raucous sounds of men and women laughing and cheering, sounds that should have been happy, but sounded vicious and jeering instead. He wondered if they were similar to the sounds the crowd made inside a Roman stadium when the lions tore the Christian martyrs apart.

  From time to time, a few of the corner men would step to the door to confer or laugh about something or throw a cigarette out on the ground. One or two stepped farther outside, but no one noticed Logan standing silent nearby in the shadows. After another twenty minutes or so had passed, Jackson himself stepped to the door, his gaze darting around the alleyway.

  “Logan,” he said, his voice low. “I know you’re here. Step out where I can see you.”

  “Forget what I look like so soon, Jackson?” He took a step forward toward the door, out far enough that the single bulb over the doorway splashed a dim light on his face.

  “I’m sorry about what happened, Logan. I tried to warn you it might.”

  “You did? You mean those cryptic little comments about the “source” and something possessing Dread? That was your warning? I don’t know Jackson. Maybe I’m a simple guy, but I need a little more. You know, something along the lines of get the hell out of Atlanta fast, Logan, or they’ll kidnap your friends and empty their guns into your fucking head. Now see, that right there would have been a helpful comment. That would have been a real heads-up.”

  Jackson flushed and took a step toward him. “I didn’t know exactly what Dread’s men might do or that they’d act so soon. I could see that you were leaving, and I thought you’d have more time.”

  “Looks like you don’t see things as well as you thought you did,” Logan ground out, his voice harsh and uncompromising. It was all he could do not to rush over there and throttle him until he told him where Luke and the others were. Jackson must have seen that in his face at least because he took a quick step backward toward the door.

  “Wait! Tell me where he is. Tell me or I’ll tear this place down, starting with you.”

  “Luke’s inside,” Jackson said, tipping his head up to indicate the basement behind him. “All of them are—they’re getting ready to fight tonight.”

  The growl that came out of Logan’s throat must have alarmed Jackson because his face blanched and he held out both hands to stop him, though Logan hadn’t moved any closer.

  “Listen to me! It’s what they want. Luke and Ron and Jake. All of them. They’ve been…persuaded that this is in their best interests, and now they want to fight. You can’t stop this, Logan, though I know you’re not listening right now. And Dread wasn’t trying to kill you—he was trying to draw you here. He set this whole thing up. Or I should say, Animus did.”

  He glanced behind him again and then back at Logan. “I know you don’t believe me, but I also know you felt it—felt the power here the other night. It’s the source, Logan, no matter how much you want to deny it or make fun of it. The source of what happened to us. And it’s too powerful for you to fight. But if you refuse to join us, then you need to turn around and run as far and as fast as you can away from this. I give you this advice for free, because we used to be friends. You’ll run if you’re smart.”

  “Yeah, well, nobody ever accused me of being too bright, did they? Save your breath, Jackson. I’m not going anywhere without him.”

  Jackson shook his head sadly. “Then you better come inside. Luke will be up in the ring next.”

  ****

  Logan followed Jackson inside and was hit with a wall of noise. People yelling and laughing, music blaring and bells clanging all filled the large basement with a cacophony of sound. As before, the place was well-lit yet still had the pervasive sense of something old and evil crouching in corners, though again, there was nothing there. Logan put it down to his own nervous energy and Jackson’s crazy talk. The same maliciousness in the air that was almost palpable was there though, and again Logan looked around to see where it might be coming from, because it felt like an actual presence in that room. But there was nothing. Nothing he could see, anyway.

  The room was full of people and smoke and the same big-breasted girls wearing tiny shorts and halters were parading around the makeshift rings, holding up cards announcing the fights. Loud music was blaring from the DJ’s corner, another fight song from another heavy metal band.

  Young men were being prepped on the sidelines, and having their hands taped, but Logan’s eyes were scanning the room only for Luke. A young man was climbing into the ring, a tall, thin guy who looked to be in his late twenties. He was wearing a pair of baggy athletic shorts and a black T-shirt. Then a door behind the bleachers opened up and Luke came out, wearing nothing but gym shorts and some boxing shoes. He hadn’t even bothered with taping his hands. Logan surged toward him and caught his arm. Logan spun him around, but before he could say anything, Luke ripped his arm away angrily, snarling at him. He had absolutely no sign of recognition on his face or in his eyes. Those eyes were tortured, frenzied and wild.

  “Get your fucking hands off me,” he said, his voice so deep and almost feral that it was hard for him to articulate. It wasn’t Luke’s voice, and Logan almost took a step backward in shock. He held on tight to Luke’s arm though and stared down into those savage eyes.

  “No chance of that,” he growled back at him, but Luke bared his teeth at him like an animal and took a vicious swipe at the air in Logan’s direction. Logan stepped back, dodging his hand. At that point Logan wouldn’t have been surprised to see his fingers tipped with claws
.

  “I said, leave me alone!” he raged, and Logan had never heard him make a sound like the one that followed that cry. It was a strangled, roaring cry of pain and fury as he tore himself away and took off through the crowd, climbing over the barricades to get to the ring. Logan was positive Luke hadn’t even recognized him, and he wondered what Dread had done to him, what kind of drugs he’d been shot up with. A sick feeling of dread washed over him. He was taking Luke out of here if he had to go through the whole damn crowd and God help anyone who tried to stop him.

  A bell clanged and the ring girl held a card up facing the stands. It said Warren/Frazier, though few in the crowd even looked at it or paid any attention at all. She left through the barricades and almost immediately, the tall guy, who must have been Frazier, rushed toward Luke, trying to get him in a headlock. Luke slipped easily from the hold and gave him a hard punch in the chest to take away with him as he dodged backward. The punch didn’t look all that bad, but Logan had been on the receiving end of a few of those hits, and he knew what they felt like and just how strong Luke actually was.

  The man literally caved in around Luke’s fist, gasping for air. He wasn’t aware of it yet, but he was already pretty much done. Logan knew Luke was still pulling his punches—this guy didn’t stand a chance. He fell to his knees, whimpering, and the crowd booed him as he valiantly tried to straighten up and stagger back toward Luke. Luke was standing in the middle of the ring, waiting for him, his head down. His body was swaying a little. But the inattention he was displaying was deceptive. Logan had seen the glitter of his eyes as he glanced up.

  The other guy pulled back his fist and swung as Luke stepped casually to the side, making him stumble and fall to the floor. The crowd jeered, laughing raucously again, but Luke was frowning. Logan had seen that look before too. He was irritated—annoyed by the man and about to punch the guy’s lights out quite literally. The man got up off the floor and went for him again and this time Luke struck him square on his cheek with his bare fist, breaking the nose and the cheek bone with a sickening crunch. Blood from the guy’s nose splattered the crowd but they only laughed and then stomped their feet and cheered as the guy’s corner men carried him out, deeply unconscious. Luke left too, on the opposite side of the barriers from Logan, allowing the crowd to slap him on the back and praise him, though he didn’t acknowledge them, nor did he make any sign he heard them.

  Logan started over to follow him, but felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Dread’s smirking face behind him. “Sgt. Logan. I wondered how long it might take you to get here. Jackson assured me you had remarkable powers of recovery.”

  Logan’s body felt hot with fury and the fact that this son-of-a-bitch in front of him was as good as admitting to his face that he’d been behind the attack enraged him and it made him long to tear him apart. The urge was so powerful it literally made him weak in the knees. He threw off Dread’s hand and took a deep breath, reminding himself what a bad idea it would be to attack Dread here with all his people around him like a pack of hungry jackals.

  “I’ve come to take Luke and my friends away from here, Dread. I’ve already called the police and reported this place.” That was a lie, though he wondered why the fuck he hadn’t done just that. It seemed those bullets had smudged his thought processes quite a bit after all.

  At any rate, completely unfazed, Dread laughed at him. “No, you didn’t, and it wouldn’t do you any good anyway. We’ve taken care of police interference a long time ago. None of them ever come here—and if they did, they wouldn’t leave afterward.”

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself. You got the whole damn Atlanta PD in your pocket, Dread?”

  “Hardly. No, they won’t come because they’ve been ‘encouraged’ not to. Persuaded it wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interests. Especially their own.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You told me the crowd was worried about the police and that’s why they were so unfriendly that first night we came here.”

  Dread shrugged. “I lied. They were unfriendly because you were strangers. We don’t like those around here. Unless they come to fight. Did you, Sgt. Logan? Did you finally come to take your place?”

  “My place? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “You still have no idea what you’re up against here, do you? Not a clue.”

  “Is that supposed to scare me?”

  Dread considered him, his head tilted to the side. “It doesn’t, though, does it? Not at all.”

  He leaned in closer, far too close for comfort. Logan fought down the urge to move back and simply waited him out, feeling as if something was about to happen. He didn’t have long to wait. As Logan watched, the color of his eyes, even the sclera darkened to a solid, gleaming black.

  The urge to run was strong, but he knew if he did, that he would only prove his weakness, when he needed to exude strength. Especially since he had the distinct feeling that Dread had left the building.

  “Who are you?” Logan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Despite the noise around them, the answer came right away. “I have no need of human names…though if you do, I have been given many. Tīya, Kēṭu, Mogwai, Ra`, Loki…Lucifer. Many others. The seer calls me Animus. It’s as good a name as any, though not any more accurate than the others.”

  “The what?”

  “The one you call Jackson. I made him a seer and a prophet. Those were gifts he earned from me in exchange for his blood.”

  “What the fuck are you?”

  Animus smiled, a baring of teeth. “The one who saved you in Mexico. For what I gave you then, I’m calling in your debt, and it’s time to pay up. And for the extra power you will bring me, I offer you in exchange even more coin of the impossible. But you need to stop fighting me.” The thing inside Dread tilted its head again and smiled. Its movements were jerky and awkward, Dread’s body like a marionette whose strings were being pulled by someone who hadn’t done this in a very long time. Dread was only a meat puppet.

  “After all, I knew you’d come for him. For the chance to ‘save’ him. I allowed it for one more chance to convince you to join us.”

  Logan nodded carefully, not sure who the “him” was he was speaking of. Jackson? Or Luke? Did this thing concern itself with such things as human feelings or was it oblivious to anything it didn’t understand?

  “He’s mine now,” the thing said. “And has no need of you. The only one you can save is yourself, and for your service to me I will reward you with many gifts.”

  “What gifts would those be?”

  “Extraordinary power and immortality as my Warrior. This is the promise I make.”

  “I already have that.”

  “Those gifts can be removed.” He gave Logan an icy glare before suddenly smiling and holding out a hand. “Riches, fame, whatever you want. I can give you the chance to be the last and greatest Warrior. If you fight for me and not the Other. But first you have to stop running from me. Are you ready at last? To take your place beside me?”

  “Why would I?”

  “For power beyond imagining.”

  “And this power comes from you?”

  “Yesss…” The sibilant hiss sent an icy shiver down his spine.

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Fight. Maim. Kill.”

  “Why?”

  The thing called Animus tilted its head to the side again, as if trying to understand the question. “Because I need it. I’m…hungry for it.”

  “Violence feeds you?”

  The thing smiled at him again. “It amuses me. That’s why I didn’t intervene before. You amused me greatly with what you did to the soldiers and to your ‘friend,’ Kowalski.” Logan took the hit, but refused to show how it affected him. His mind instantly went back to the night he’d killed Kowalski.

  He had felt the coldness growing in him, like he’d felt it once before in that alley when he’d been so angry at the kids torturi
ng Rio. The air around him began to grow frigid again—icy cold. He’d looked down at himself and saw splinters of ice projecting outward from his body, like thick, sharp icicles, but far deadlier. These covered his body, jutting out all over him, like barbs of steel, like armor, but this armor was a lethal weapon as well. Most amazing of all, he knew that only he could see it, as Kowalski’s men kept running at him, charging him, only to impale themselves on the ice and fall writhing and screaming to the ground as he knocked them away.

  He stretched out his hands and saw them covered in ice as well, thick slabs of it. He came toward Kowalski, who was still standing to meet him, and slammed his arm into him. Kowalski threw up an arm to block him and his face became horror stricken as he looked down to see his arm become encased in ice. The ice flowed over him, like liquid, and covered him so fast his eyes were still open, trying to blink at Logan in terror. His mouth was still open in a scream, but there would be no mercy for him after what he’d planned to do to Luke, after what he’d done to Jackson and Rio.

  Logan pulled back his arm again and crashed it into Kowalski one last time and watched with satisfaction as his frozen body shattered into a hundred pieces. He kicked at the pieces until they were scattered all over the ground, then kicked a few of the larger pieces into the fire, where they sizzled and crackled as they disintegrated. Kowalski would not be coming back from this.

  Logan felt the memories washing over him like being hit by a bad wave that knocked you flat and then kept you scrambling around in the surf and the sand until you began to entertain the possibility you really might drown. He had a feeling that he needed never to show such weakness to this Animus thing if he were to survive an encounter with it.