The Darkest Assassin

by Gena Showalter

  As the two stumbled to the dirt, viciously punching, kicking, and swiping at each other, Bjorn’s legs gave out, the pain increasing exponentially. He hit his knees, then toppled over. So dizzy. Blood rushed from his limbs, pooling around his vital organs to keep them warm.

  Though he fought to remain aware and active, black dots encroached on his vision. His blood turned to acid, and he knew. The blade had been poisoned.

  Whatever William had planned, it did not bode well for anyone, not even Fox. Did he hope to use her, perhaps, for her portal-opening skills?

  No, no, no. My prisoner. Mine! No one else had the right to use or harm her. Must save her. Must…

  Darkness enveloped Bjorn’s mind, dragging him kicking and screaming into a deep, deep sleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fox fought William’s hold, desperate to return to Bjorn, who had passed out on the ground, surrounded by his own intestines. A development she should applaud, considering he planned to exterminate her.

  The knowledge still tore her up inside. At least Distrust had gone quiet, petrified of the Ever Randy for some reason. A first.

  Would Bjorn pull through? He had to pull through. She loved him and—

  Whoa. She sucked in a breath. She loved him?

  A tiny glimmer of light chased away the shadows in her mind, the truth suddenly clear. She did. She loved him. Or rather, she used to love him. After everything he’d done today, she planned to switch off her emotions every time she thought of him. Or saw him. Or spoke to him. That way, she would never hurt over him again. But…

  The hurt proved too strong, and wouldn’t go away. It gnawed at her insides. Lost my lover and best friend today. And he was her best friend, wasn’t he? Or he had been. She’d enjoyed conversing with him, sleeping with him, and making him smile. Now, tears scalded her eyes.

  Okay, so, maybe she’d switch off her emotions tomorrow and go back to her cold, barren existence then. Today, she would wallow in her misery, ensuring she never forgot the consequences of falling in love.

  William maintained a tight hold and flashed her to—she gasped, her jaw going slack. What is this place? Eerily dark, illuminated by thousands of mini-fire pits. Inside each set of flames—a human soul. The scent of burnt meat saturated the air, stinging her nostrils. She gagged.

  Shackled by chains and staked to the ground in a supine position, those souls writhed in pain. Scream after scream assaulted her ears, broken up by the occasional moan. Everyone within her vicinity begged for help.

  “What is this place?” she croaked.

  He unveiled the evilest grin she’d ever beheld, every inch a prince of darkness. “I call this area a spice rack. During their human lives, these people chose to serve me. Upon their deaths, they became my property. As spirits, they never die and never ash. They do feel the heat and agony of the flames. Then, whenever I crave soul food”—he snickered at his own joke—“I pick a tasty one or two.”

  Soul food. A disgusting reference on so many levels. “You snack on people?” A lump grew in her throat, and she gulped.

  “Among other things,” he sang.

  Fox had spent a little time with William when she and Galen visited the Lords of the Underworld. William of the Dark had irritated and amused her, but he’d never disgusted her like this. Something had changed. He wasn’t the same man as before.

  “This is where you think you’re going to keep me?” She tried to wrench free, but he dug his claws deeper into her wrist. Either that, or his claws had lengthened. She winced as the tips embedded in bone.

  When Fox kneed his groin, he willingly released her.

  “You little bitch,” he snarled, backhanding her across the cheek.

  Her head whipped to the side, pain exploding through her brain. Blood coated her tongue, and weakness poured through her. He wore a ring on every finger and one—or all—must have had some sort of toxin. Losing too much blood too fast. Too weak.

  “I know I’m going to keep you here until I decide to make use of your Gatekeeper abilities. You will help me win my war with the Kings of the Underworld and their Sent One allies, or I will magnify your suffering each and every day.”

  Confirmation: this was not William. William aided the Kings. Suspicions danced through Fox’s mind, followed by rumors she’d heard about William’s brother, Lucifer, some type of sorcerer, who used magic to cast illusions and shapeshift into anyone, at any time…

  Finally, comprehension dawned. So did horror. “You are Lucifer,” she rasped. “The Destroyer, King of Deception, Prince of Darkness, the Dark One, Satan, and the Devil.

  “Ding, ding, ding.” Right before her eyes, his appearance changed. Dark hair lightened. Blue eyes darkened. Bronze skin became gold. As beautiful as an angel—a lie.

  Nauseous, she stumbled back, putting distance between them. Or trying to. She tripped over a set of shackles and crashed to the ground. Lucifer followed her down, clearly intending to chain her there. That evil, evil smile…

  The second he moved within range, she kicked him in the stomach. As weak as she was, she caused little damage. Worse, he latched on to her ankle with minimal effort and laughed.

  He laughed harder as he spread her legs and kicked the apex of her thighs, sending painful vibrations through her womb. “You kneed me, and I kicked you. Tit for tat. Everything you do to me, I will do to you, only worse.”

  “Thanks for permission, asshole.” Drawing on a reserve of strength, Fox erupted, bucking and kicking until she knocked him down.

  They rolled across the ground, and ended up in a flaming prison. Searing pain! Excruciating agony! The flesh on her left side blistered and melted, and stars winked through her vision. He remained unaffected, punch, punch, punching her face. One of her eyes swelled shut. Her lip split, blood filling her mouth. More stars obscured her line of sight.

  Come on! Finish him! He took his next swing. At the last second, she threw herself to the side. He hit air, his momentum propelling him forward. Fighting for every breath, each movement a lesson in torment, Fox crawled toward the empty prison and latched on to the chain. As she hoped, he followed, flipping her over, dropping to his knees, and pinning her legs. A total mistake on his part.

  She used the chain like a whip—thanks for the idea, Thane and Xerxes. The links wound around Lucifer’s neck. Yank. She drove him to the ground face-first. Before he righted himself, she hooked the end of the shackle to the chain itself, securing the links to each other, ensuring he couldn’t slither free; he’d have to use a key. A key he probably had in his pocket.

  Time wasn’t her friend. Go! Now, now, now. Did she have enough juice to open a portal?

  As Fox lumbered to her feet and raced away, she pressed her fingertips together. Sparks ignited. Not as many as usual, but enough to open a portal, taking her somewhere else. Relief bombarded her. Where should she go? No, to whom should she go? Easy. Galen, the man who loved and trusted her. No doubt he was out of his mind with worry. She never wanted to see Bjorn again. He’d turned his back on her when she needed him most, choosing to believe the worst of her. But. There’s always a stupid but. First, she had to see Bjorn again. One last time. She had to warn him about Lucifer.

  It was decided, then. She would issue the warning, then she would leave. Forever.

  * * * *

  Bjorn came to as familiar voices invaded his mind.

  “—out of Water now,” Thane was saying. “The next time Alana summons him…”

  “We knew this day would come,” Xerxes replied, worry roughing up his tone. “At each syphoning, Alana has drained more from him. Without the Water, he won’t survive the next visit. I’ve asked around, but no one is willing to share what little Water they have left.”

  “We must find a way to break Alana’s bond to him, then, without harming him. I know we’ve tried and failed in the past, but we must have missed something, somewhere.”

  “As long as he stays in Hell, she will not approach him. Nor can she force him to visit h
er lair.”

  Footstep sounded. Someone patted his cheek. He blinked open his eyes to find Xerxes beside him. Thane perched at the edge of the bed.

  Bjorn cast his gaze this way and that, but his surroundings proved unfamiliar. He wasn’t in a cabin in Hell or a cloud in the heavens but…a room the armies of Sent Ones had built for medical emergencies? Sterile environment, with medical equipment scattered throughout.

  He lay upon a gurney, inhaling highly oxygenated air. Another patient slept on the other side of the room. Someone he recognized…who, who?

  The answer hit him, and he stiffened. The Warrior Fox had tried to kill.

  Fox… Memories assaulted him. Her betrayal…William’s attack… The pangs started up again, tearing through his chest.

  “How long was I out?” he demanded, jolting upright. “Where is Fox?”

  His friends ceased pacing and zoomed to his side.

  “You were out for roughly twelve hours,” Thane told him.

  “We don’t know where Fox is being held,” Xerxes said. “I’m sorry, Bjorn.”

  Twelve hours. Twelve hours Fox had been with William, the male who’d disemboweled Bjorn. He fisted his hands. Twelve hours with no leads on her location.

  Before this, Bjorn would have bet his life the bastard would have died protecting her. Anything to prove he safeguarded the people under his care. Now? After sensing all the evil that radiated from the guy, Bjorn believed he would enjoy harming her.

  “We interrogated everyone within the vicinity of William’s attack,” Xerxes said. “We even spoke to the Warrior in your cabin. Apparently, he decided to kill Fox to save you from her influence. He is currently cuffed to his bed. We saved him for you. Everyone else claimed William flashed Fox away as soon as you fell. No one knows where he took her, but he’s been spotted inside his home without her. Actually, there’s another woman in there.”

  He will die screaming! Then the rest of Xerxes’ speech registered, and Bjorn went cold. Fox had told the truth. What she’d done to the Sent One, she’d done in self-defense. And I punished her for it.

  Who deserved punishment more? The Sent One who hoped to right a wrong, or Bjorn, who’d betrayed her trust?

  She’d told him this would happen. She’d even told him what would happen after he realized the truth, too. How he would want her back, but she’d have zero interest in a reconciliation.

  Panic clawed at him. I wronged her. I wronged her terribly, and now she’s gone. If he’d done it, if he’d gone through with her murder only to find out she’d told the truth… Would never forgive myself.

  “No one can understand why William stabbed you and absconded with her,” Thane said, his brows knitted together.

  “I will find out. Whatever the answer, I will punish him.” Sickened and frantic, Bjorn threw his legs over the gurney. He had to find her, apologize and beg for forgiveness.

  Xerxes cupped his shoulder to try and ease him back down. “You need rest. Tell us what you want done and we’ll take care of it.”

  “No, I must do this on my own.” He’d helped create this mess, and he would be the one to fix it.

  Thane’s eyes widened. “You love her.” A statement rather than a question. “She maddens, irritates and annoys you, just as Elin did to me before I admitted my feelings for her. Yet, there is no one else you would rather hold, yes? No one else you’d rather see or speak with. No one else who makes you smile and laugh.”

  Yes! “I can’t love her. Not really,” he croaked with a shake of his head. “The second I believed she betrayed me, part of me considered executing her a good idea. A man in love would have trusted his female.”

  “Not a man still fighting his feelings,” Thane said.

  “Bjorn.” Xerxes patted his shoulder. “I have watched you with this woman. She has changed you for the better. You laugh and you smile. You are excited to start each day. No longer do you dread the morning. You’ve grown. Today, you backslid. Tomorrow, you’ll do better.”

  “Not tomorrow. Now. I must find her.” Then, whether she took Bjorn back or not, he would speak with Zacharel. She’d done the ten dirty, yes, but the punishment for the crime belonged to Distrust, not Fox, who’d already been whipped, poisoned, stabbed, and stoned.

  If Zacharel still insisted on Fox’s death, Bjorn could demand suppono. He sucked in a breath. Yes. Yes! By demanding suppono, he would have a legal right to be Fox’s stand-in. He could accept punishment on her behalf, ensuring no other Sent One could harm her for the crime…ever. Bjorn would be dead, but Fox would be free.

  Perhaps I do love her.

  “And William?” Thane asked. “I am surprised he did anything at all. He’s been distracted with his own prisoner.”

  “He should have stayed distracted. For his actions, William dies today.” He unfolded to surprisingly steady legs. Judging by the fresh, clean taste in his mouth, his friends had fed him the last drops of Water of Life. A blessing and a curse. If Fox required the Water in order to survive whatever torments William dished... Pang.

  Bjorn exited the building, heat engulfing him. Sweat beaded and trickled. He marched through the sea of Sent Ones still building their cabins, menace accompanying his every step. Thane and Xerxes flanked his sides. Wise Warriors jumped out of his path as he made his way to William’s fortress. A few members of his army spotted him and rushed to join the procession.

  “What are we doing?” one of them whispered to another.

  “Does it matter? If our leader fights, we fight.”

  No guards blocked the entrance, and the doors were unlocked. Bjorn stalked inside without pause, entering a large foyer. He noted the layout of the interior—and the obstacles in his way—with a swift visual sweep. Black-and-white-tiled floor, both covered in gold filigree. A mural depicting a battle in Hell probably had a secret passageway hidden somewhere. A side table with crystal vases filled with roses of every color.

  No sign of William or the woman he’d been keeping here.

  Palming two daggers—he wouldn’t use his sword of fire until he’d discovered Fox’s location—Bjorn stomped up a winding staircase. Midway, voices caught his attention. One male, one female, both out of breath. He tensed. He didn’t recognize the woman’s timbre. Still, he increased his pace, drawing nigh.

  When he reached the door—closed and locked—he didn’t bother knocking. No, he kicked the door down and stomped inside, shouting, “William! Today you pay for your crimes.”

  In bed, the dark-haired male jolted upright at the same time as the woman beside him—a delicate-looking beauty with a sheet clutched to her chest. Her hair was a rainbow of colors—no, her hair was silvery white. The change baffled him. Her brown skin glittered as if dusted with diamond powder. Her nails grew into black claws. She was a Gothic fairy tale Barbie come to life.

  Relief warred with rage. Fox wasn’t in bed with the Ever Randy—a relief. Fox wasn’t here, period—rage!

  Rage won.

  “There’s a gun in my nightstand,” a naked William informed the female. “If anyone looks at you, give them a Sunny Lane special.”

  With a voice as sweet as sugar, she asked, “You mean a bullet to the face?” A wicked, wicked smile bloomed—a smile she leveled on Bjorn. “Excellent idea.”

  William surged to his feet, telling Bjorn, “You have three seconds to exit my bedroom, or you will suffer. Three. Two.”

  Bjorn remained in place, the rage pulsing from him.

  “Very well,” William snarled. “You suffer.”

  “Don’t taint your growing bond with Axel by killing his friends,” the woman called. “Just spank them a little.”

  Oh, yes. Axel and William. The immoral world was abuzz with news about their recently admitted familial connection.

  William ran his tongue over his teeth and returned his focus to Bjorn. “To which crimes are you referencing?” The woman’s words had impact, then. William, a prince of darkness, truly cared about Axel, a Sent One.

  “As if you don�
�t know!” The other Sent Ones—everyone but Thane and Xerxes, who knew him best—lined up behind him. “Stay back,” he snapped at them. “William is mine.” Then, he unleashed a war cry.

  The others ignored his order to stand down. Either that, or they were too caught up in battle heat to have heard him. They summoned swords of fire and surged forward, attacking the dark prince in unison.

  Bjorn hung back. Disobey an order, and suffer. So, he’d let William teach these Warriors a valuable lesson, then he would act.

  With a growl, William picked up two daggers that rested atop a pile of clothes. He blocked and slashed the blows launched his way. Blocked. Blocked. Slashed. Then, he stabbed a Sent One in the eye. All the while, a rage very similar to Bjorn’s emanated from the prince. Lightning flashed under the surface of his skin, wings of smoke rose from his back, and claws extended from his nail beds.

  “Tell me what you think I did,” William snarled at Bjorn now.

  “Do not pretend ignorance.” Adrenaline scorched Bjorn from head to toe as the heat of battle overtook him. Screw hanging back. He shoved another Sent One out of the way to leap at William, slashing. One blade nicked William’s cheek, blood trickling, yet the bastard grinned. The second blade followed, doing the same, and the POS only grinned wider.

  Bjorn blocked a counterstrike. William probably expected him to fight like a typical Sent One, but he didn’t. No, oh no. He fought like a True Dread, going for the eyes, throat and groin. The exact same way the dark prince fought.

  To his surprise, the male landed as many blows as he received.

  William blocked a strike, twisted and tossed a dagger at a portrait on the wall. The moment the blade embedded in the image, spikes shot out from the floor. Multiple Sent Ones stepped on those sharp protrusions and toppled, groaning with shock and pain.

  Hissing, Bjorn used his wings to avoid further impaling. Though the massive size of his wings coupled with the limited space worked against him, he hovered in the air. The Warriors still standing followed suit.