The Darkest Captive

by Gena Showalter

  He grinned. After making love for hours, her urgent moans teasing his ears, they had snuggled lazily in bed. Unlike before, Leila hadn’t traced Xs over his pec as they’d basked in the afterglow, waiting for their bodies to calm.

  His grin vanished. Tick, tick. Why the lack? Last night, he’d been too exhausted to ponder the reasons. Now he wondered what thoughts had rolled through her mind.

  She realized she’s better off without you. She—

  Enough!

  Tick tick. Galen hurriedly brushed his teeth and dressed in…Well. They certainly weren’t his clothes. One of the Lords must have snuck in, stolen all his clothes, and replaced them with a T-shirt that read “My Father-in-law likes Liver, Fava Beans, and Chianti,” a pair of too-tight leathers, and combat boots chopped up to look like flip-flops around the toes.

  A warm tide of contentment flowed over him, momentarily drowning out the ticking bomb. The Lords of the Underworld only played jokes on their friends. The bigger the joke, the more they cared.

  Galen owed Leila a debt he could never repay. For this, and so much more. She had brought him to this point, doing the impossible, giving his heart new life. She’d taught him how to love—how to live. She’d reminded him just how much trust and loyalty mattered, how valuable they were. How rare. She’d shown him the importance of creating bonds with others.

  One of the first lessons he’d learned in combat was the importance of having backup. His instructor had said, Think of every soldier as a string. Tie two…three…four of those strings together, and each one benefits. Each one is strengthened. The more strings grouped together, the harder it is for a foe to cut or fray one, much less all.

  Who didn’t like being stronger?

  Friendship-wise, Galen had reached everyone but his daughter. Any time he’d tried to converse with her, she’d stomped from the room. Last night, at Leila’s urging, he’d left out the scrapbook he’d made. All he could do now was wait and hope for the best. And he did. For the first time, he believed he could have the best, that he and Gwen could get to a good place. One day. If he could win over the Lords of the Underworld, he could win anyone. He just had to fight for what he wanted, never conceding defeat.

  A sudden realization rocked him. If he had managed to kill Lords during their war, he wouldn’t have their friendship now. If he had killed Aeron specifically, he wouldn’t have met Leila. He wouldn’t have a family, or a chance with Gwen. He would have missed all this, and more. He would have missed the life he was meant to lead.

  How close he’d come to losing everything, to disqualifying himself from a perfect fate, and he hadn’t even known it.

  His earliest instinct had been correct. Lives were worth saving, worth redeeming. Even his. Even those he’d once resented. With one small caveat, of course. Anyone who threatened or harmed Leila, well, their life was forfeit, as good as gone; they deserved what they got.

  Needing her enfolded in his arms, he made his way out of the bedroom. A robo-bird flew in front of him, hovering, a piece of paper trapped within its beak. A love letter from Leila? The grin returned, only to fall as he read the text.

  My darling Galen,

  I am in total and complete love with you. I’m sorry I never told you to your face. I was going to reveal all when I presented you with a gift (more on that in a sec). But, just in case something happens, I decided to confess now. I don’t want you going through life not knowing how I feel.

  You mean so much to me, and I want to protect you the way you’ve protected me. I WILL protect you. You asked me what’s been bothering me lately, and I’m ready to tell you.

  I’ve been thinking of ways to off Cronus, and finally I know. So, I’m going after the king of the Titans.

  Before you freak out—please don’t freak out. I’ve got this, lover boy. I won’t even have to do any tracking. I just have to leave the fortress so he can find me without worrying about dealing with you Lords. (Yep. YOU are a Lord of the Underworld. A fearsome warrior loved and adored by the others. They would so die for you. They’d complain about it constantly, sure, but they’d still do it.) I’ve noticed the ease you guys have with each other, and it’s made me happy.

  Please don’t come after me. Let me come to you—with Cronus’s head. (My gift to you! (Happy birthday, Merry Christmas, and Happy Anniversary for eternity!)

  I’m sorry I didn’t stick around to discuss this with you in person. I knew you’d try to talk me out of it, or even take measures to stop me. But I have to do this. He hurt you. No one is allowed to hurt you. You have given me so much. I don’t know if I can ever convey the absolute joy of knowing I’m the one who gave you contentment after you waited multiple lifetimes. Me! In return, you didn’t just give me back my life, Galen. You became my life.

  Love,

  Your Leila

  The ticking bomb finally exploded inside Galen. He balled the paper in his fist, ragged growls rumbling in his chest.

  I have to do this, and you have to let me. The words Leila must have uttered before she’d left him sleeping in bed.

  Another snippet of remembered conversation followed. Before they’d fallen asleep, she’d asked, Do you know what Cronus wants from Lucifer’s palace?

  No. Do you?

  Maybe? There have always been rumors about the palace. See, Lucifer likes to steal spirits of the dead—spirits who belong elsewhere. He keeps his favorite captives in a private realm, and only he has the key. That key is supposedly bespelled—to look at it is to forget it. Supposedly. What if Lucifer stole the spirit of Cronus—the original Cronus—from the prison realm that is earmarked for Pandora’s demons? If Cronus 2.0 gets his hands on Lucifer’s key, he can find and free Cronus’s spirit. Body and spirit can merge, ensuring the Prince of Darkness can no longer contain the king of the Titans.

  A body was a spirit house, so to speak. When the house crumbled, the spirit was forced to move on to a spirit realm. And there were many such realms. The one in the upper level of the heavens, of course, and the one in the deepest pits of hell. But as Leila had said, there were also prison realms for those like the Lords of the Underworld and Cronus, the former keeper of Greed.

  As much as Leila had trained, Galen should have known she planned to go after Cronus. Panic roiled inside him, and the demons pounced, emboldened.

  Going to lose her. Might be too late already.

  No. No! She was smart, wily, her training at the forefront of her mind. She could survive anything.

  She wanted to do this alone. Too bad. While she’d learned to trust herself, she hadn’t learned to trust others. And he understood, he did. In the heavens, he’d done the same thing. The thing was, she didn’t need to do this alone. They were a team, and he would forever have her back.

  Galen charged into the hall, shouting, “Aeron! Fox! William! Gwen!” Their names scraped his throat like razors. His daughter might not like him, or want anything to do with him, but she was a trained killer, and he wanted her expertise for the most important mission of his life. “Get your weapons, and get your asses in gear. We’re going hunting.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two soldiers shoved Legion to her knees directly in front of Cronus. The king of Titans settled on a throne of skulls.

  She was exactly where she’d hoped to be. At his mercy. Do not smile.

  She had no room for fear, not anymore. Fury had overtaken her.

  Careful. Must appear weak, afraid, and non-threatening.

  How strange. For so long, she’d dreamed of being strong, invincible. Check, and check. Dreams did come true. If she was going to walk away from this battle, however, she needed this man to gravely underestimate her.

  Mere hours ago, she’d wandered around the castle district of Budapest, as if lost. The day before, she’d strolled through the castle district, happy. She’d wanted Galen at her side, but she’d needed his absence so she could sell her most valuable jewels to pay for an ancient sword her friends had mentioned.

  Metal wings protrude
d from the hilt, and the blade had been forged by a Sent One. The perfect weapon for Galen.

  The sword would arrive at the fortress tomorrow. And I will be there to watch his face light up when I present it to him.

  Today, she’d wanted Cronus’s guards to come out of hiding and ambush her. They hadn’t disappointed. She’d had no weapons on her, because she’d needed none. Not then, not now.

  Look at me, so easy to defeat. Take what you want, your majesty…I dare you.

  “Leaving the Lords was foolish, and you aren’t a foolish woman,” Cronus said. “So why did you do it?”

  He’d taken over the realm that Rhea—his ex-wife—had owned. Well, Rhea had owned it before Cameo, keeper of Misery, had soundly thrashed her and left it abandoned. The realm’s crowning glory was this open, airy temple constructed with ancient stones. But there were other treasures to be had here. Trees with leaves as colorful as butterfly wings surrounded the outer walls, the scent of ambrosia heavy in the air. Precious gems were scattered over the ground like pebbles, glittering in sunlight.

  Once Legion had killed Cronus, she would take ownership of the realm.

  A head for Galen, a realm for me. For us.

  At least a hundred soldiers were positioned around the temple’s perimeter. Men she would offer a choice: Let me go, or die. Just a matter of time.

  Not yet, but soon. In the corner stood ten winged warriors, each bound by chain. These particular Sent Ones had white and gold wings, which meant they were Warriors. Though they were upright, their eyes were closed, as if they were asleep. Magic crackled in the air around them.

  How had Cronus captured them? Even unconscious, they projected an aura of malice and determination. The second they escaped, they would try to tear the Titan limb from limb, no doubt about it.

  Would they throw mantrums when they discovered Legion had already killed the male?

  In that moment, she regretted not bringing Galen. They could have done this together, could have fought side by side. They could have protected each other. She’d just…she’d wanted to prove she could do this on her own.

  “I asked you a question. Do not make me ask again,” Cronus spat, backhanding her.

  Pain exploded through her head, and blood filled her mouth, coating her tongue with the taste of old pennies. He wore spiked rings. At least he hadn’t stabbed her. Two short swords were strapped to his back. He even had garrote wire wrapped around his wrist, and two daggers sheathed at his waist. Also a dagger at each ankle.

  Galen liked to weapon-up in a similar manner. Had the clone copied him?

  Here goes. She spit out the blood and did her best to make her voice weak. “I needed to speak with you. You hurt Galen so bad…so bad. He hasn’t recovered. If I give you what you want, will you leave him alone? Please.” Too much? “You don’t have to search my memories. I’ll tell you everything I remember. Just leave Galen alone, okay?”

  Cronus smiled with cold calculation, the very reaction she’d craved. “What’s to stop me from taking what I want, hmm?”

  “Honor? Integrity? Actually, you can’t read my thoughts.” False Hope had taught her well. How to use the power of suggestion. How temptation and greed could be roused in men, immortals and mortals alike. How to build someone up…then tear them down. “I have shields now. Good ones.” Truth. She’d worked with Keeley. But she had no desire to use those shields.

  The king drummed his fingers together, and she knew she was close to hooking him. “If I want in, you won’t be able to keep me out.”

  “You’re wrong?” She posed the words as a question rather than a statement. Pretending to be afraid, she stood, as if she meant to run. The guards stationed at her sides pushed her back down with enough force to rattle her brain against her skull. For that, they’ll die with their king. “I can keep you out. And I will. Unless you agree to my deal.”

  Don’t agree, Cronus. Come on. Force your way in…

  He slid to the edge of the throne and leaned toward her, his eyes narrowed. Well and truly hooked now.

  Triumph flared, reminding her of the glory days, when torture had been the only item on her To Do list. Shouldn’t smile.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, placing his hands on her temples.

  “Not until you agree to my terms.”

  “Look,” he grated.

  Again, she pretended to be afraid. Slowly, she slid her gaze to his. As soon as their eyes met, fingers began to crawl through her mind, sorting through her thoughts. She offered no resistance, her memories his for the taking. And take he did.

  “You have no shields,” he murmured, smug. Triumphant.

  Her insincere cries for mercy only encouraged him. When he found what he was looking for—the Palace of Infinite Horrors—she almost laughed. She gave him full access to the memories—and all the emotions that came with them. The fear. The humiliation. The degradation. The pain. The helplessness. The desire to die.

  He jerked his hands away from her, severing contact. Too little, too late. Powerful emotions couldn’t be wished away. With a groan, he pulled at hanks of his hair.

  “Enjoy the memories with my compliments,” she said, and rammed her fist into his nose.

  Cartilage snapped and blood spurted, his next groan replaced by a bellow. She wasted no time, clasping the hilts of his daggers and stabbing him in the throat. A quick jab, jab, jab. More blood. Warm wet splattered over her face and hands, but she didn’t slow. She hacked through skin, muscle, and tendon until his head held on by a single thread of tissue—then she cut that, too.

  As head and body disconnected, she realized she’d done it. She’d won! And yet… the victory left her hollow, because Galen wasn’t here to share it with her.

  Her earlier realization solidified. Yes, a thousand times yes, she should have talked with him, should have told him all her thoughts and plans. She’d given the man her heart and her body. Why had she denied him this?

  Never again, she vowed.

  Murmurs rose behind her, the guards rallying, preparing to do battle with the one who’d slain their king.

  They choose to die, then. Very well.

  She turned—and caught sight of Galen. He wasn’t alone. He’d brought Aeron, Gwen, Sabin, Fox, and William, too. Armed for war, the group rushed through a portal. They took in the scene with a swift visual sweep then positioned their body in front of Cronus’s soldiers, blocking her.

  When a guard raised his sword, Galen tsked and said, “Trust me. You don’t want to do that.”

  Happiness swelled within Legion. He’d come for her!

  “Galen, look!” She swooped down, tangled her fingers through Cronus’s hair, and lifted the severed head high in the air. “Look what I did!”

  He blew her a kiss laced with relief, amusement, and joy, a heady combination. “I’m so proud of you, sugar.”

  To her astonishment, the chained Sent Ones awakened a second later, their eyes popping open. In unison, they stepped apart, splitting down the middle to reveal a third clone of Cronus. Oh… crap. He wore a white toga, and just as many weapons as his predecessor. Unlike the Sent Ones, he wasn’t chained.

  “Another one?” Aeron bellowed.

  “I’ve got to get a clone of myself,” William remarked, not the least bit fazed. “Finally! I would have my perfect mate.”

  Legion stomped her foot, aggravated. Why wouldn’t the Titan just die already?

  New Cronus—NC—opened his eyes, and scanned the temple. “Attack!”

  The guards sprang into action, swinging swords and spears at her friends. Knowing they could take care of themselves, she chucked the severed head at NC, nailing him in the face. He staggered backward.

  In her periphery, she noticed Fox had stopped fighting the guards. Someone made a play for her throat, but Galen fended him off. Fox continued to stare at the Sent Ones, her gaze solid black. Black lines appeared beneath the surface of her skin, too, branching over her cheeks, down her neck. Like poison. At the same time, the ends of h
er hair caught fire, yet never burned.

  That’s new. Thanks to Distrust?

  The Sent Ones remained as still as statues, but rage boiled in their eyes. Steam might have wafted from their nostrils.

  Oh, yeah. Cronus had definitely used magic to hobble the warriors.

  “I can keep Cronus inside the temple,” William called, his voice strained as he gutted three soldiers, one after the other, “but only temporarily. Whoever wants the honors needs to kill him quick.”

  Legion returned her gaze to Galen, who swung his sword, removing a soldier’s head. He nodded at her. “Do it, sugar,” he said, trusting her to take care of the big bad.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shell-shocked but utterly mesmerized, Galen killed the Titan king’s guards one after the other by rote, watching as Leila went on the offensive, attacking the newest version of Cronus.

  Magnificent creature. Blood splattered her skin. She was dressed to kill in black leather, displaying a skill and viciousness he admired. She used the daggers, her fists, legs and elbows, every part of her body a weapon. Whenever necessary, she ducked or dove out of the way.

  Having just awakened from a however long slumber, Cronus 3.0 had slower reflexes. He fought back, of course, even landing blows, but he took a lot more hits than he landed.

  “Hurt my man? Hit me?” Leila flung the accusations at him. “I. Always. Repay.” She punctuated each word with a brutal jab of the dagger. First, his heart. Then, a kidney. Then, his liver.

  Still the Titan continued fighting, unsheathing his short swords. He wielded the blades with tremendous skill. Once…twice…a dozen times, Galen had to stop himself from closing the distance and ending the battle. Hurt my woman, and suffer.

  He managed to resist the temptation, grounded by pride. Leila projected zero fear as she blocked. No, she was the epitome of fury, determination—and joy.

  Cronus didn’t know it, but he’d lost the war the second Leila found her confidence.

  “Can’t…hold…” William grated. He stood with his arms outstretched, his features strained as he powered the invisible barrier around the temple, preventing Cronus from flashing away.