by Jenny McKane
Considering the facts that he now knew, he knew it was time to leave Sunny’s thoughts as she dreamed. But he couldn’t—not right away. He wanted to see her and while his rational, human side knew it was an unkind thing to do, that it would only hurt and confuse her more, the growing irrational demon who demanded to be satisfied instantly was far more powerful now. With his dreamwalking powers, Gideon created an empty canvas---a black screen so to speak, where he stood with nothing around him, calling to Sunny in her sleep.
He was still getting a hold on the dream demon-like powers he held and didn’t want to pull too hard on Sunny’s subconsciousness. It took a few times, but eventually, she walked through the black screen he’d created and faced him. She took a moment to take in their surroundings and frowned.
“No parlor tricks tonight?” There was no confusion in her voice, no hesitation. She knew exactly what was happening—she knew this was Gideon’s doing.
The smallest sliver of Gideon that remained wanted to grab Sunshine in his arms and not let go. He wanted to kiss her senseless while he still had the chance—but he knew better. His time was limited and if she knew what was really going on, she might veer off course in some sense of noble idiocy in an attempt to save him. Just like she’d done in Hell.
The small part of Gideon that remained whole loved Sunny too much to risk her attempting something like that again, so he would stick to the script he’d created and make her hate him. Even if he had to assume the role of villain to her face. She could spit at him, rail at him, hate him—that was fine. He just wanted to see her face, even in her dream, while he still had enough of himself to appreciate it.
“Would you like some?” It wasn’t hard to get into his demon-persona character. The rough-edged, impetuous creature was always there, just below the surface.
She shook her head. “Get it over with,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. Defensive. Untrusting. Good.
“They didn’t listen to you, did they?”
He already knew the answers, he just wanted to hear her take on it.
She searched his face, or as much of it as he would allow her to see.
“Of course not,” she said finally. “Can you blame them?”
“Eli is mad that you talk to me, isn’t he?”
Again, he knew the answer to the question, but the burning jealousy in him wouldn’t let him not pick at that wound just a little bit to see what she would say and just how much Gideon could still feel.
“This isn’t talking,” she said instead. “These are games. And I’m done.”
“Are you still going to kill me the next time you see me?”
Gideon goaded her. He needed her reaction. He needed to see the fire in her eyes to know she’d be okay. The strength she had there that she kept hidden to make everyone else comfortable—the same way she had after he returned from Hell broken and miserable.
“I’m going to make sure you don’t ever see me again,” she said instead and immediately, something inside him roared to life at the thought.
“You can’t stop me,” he challenged, his pulse racing at the exchange.
“You’re a fool if you think I don’t know how to defend my dreams,” she said, catching him off guard. “My closest ally is the strongest dream demon in Hell and he taught me well. I let you in, Gideon. And one of these times it’s going to be a trap.”
He laughed at her, though not entirely convinced that what she said wasn’t a lie. There was something about the way she carried herself. The way she didn’t look scared of him—almost convincing him that her being here wasn’t actually his insistence, but hers.
“You’re not strong enough,” he said simply.
She cocked a shoulder and shrugged at him. “Maybe not,” she said. “You’ll find out, though.”
“I can’t wait.”
“In fact,” she said as she glanced around one more time. “I need to go. It’s been another joy to see you, Betrayer, but you need to leave.”
The demon in him sensed the challenge and rose to meet it.
“As if you could—” he began but was cut short.
The blackness around him tilted and he felt himself tumble through darkness, dizzy and disoriented.
She’d just thrust him out of her subconsciousness so effortlessly, he’d not seen it coming.
Jerking back to reality on the bathroom floor of his suite where he’d locked himself in, he took a moment to calm his breathing, hardly believing what had just happened.
Sunny had reclaimed her space and forced a being much stronger than her to vacate it without the slightest strain whatsoever.
She’d managed to gain her own dream demon powers without him realizing and despite what it meant for his plans, he couldn’t help but smile just a little where nobody would see him.
Sunny had surprised him with her strength and Gideon couldn’t have been happier.
Chapter Thirty-two
Bright Valley, Arizona was nothing more than a whole bunch of high desert, a convenience store with a truck stop/gas station and a laundromat attached, and a Wal-Mart. There were a few streets tucked around the landscape with houses, but it was mostly a thoroughfare for trucks trying to make it up to Salt Lake City under the radar.
Just like that, they were back to living like refugees in an empty mobile home that Ronnie had used now and then between travels. His sacred instruments—feathers, bundles of herbs, drums, and beads—were carefully displayed on wooden shelves in the living room, but other than that, it was clean and mostly void of any signs of ownership.
His people came to collect him not long after they arrived in the encampment and despite being in rough shape, Gabriel knelt over the tarp-wrapped body and said a blessing. Metatron did the same and even Asmodeus looked respectfully on.
It was a sad moment for the volunteer warriors, too. They’d not only lost their spiritual leader in Ronnie, they all believed their commander Jericho was as good as dead, too. Some of them had even heard Malach name his price for their freedom and had witnessed Sunny’s refusal to pay it. Granted, Eli was clinging to her and not letting her move, but it had probably looked like Sunny was afraid.
They had a bit of downtime ahead of them and could do nothing but wait for some sort of sign, invitation, or provocation to act, and that was the hardest part of all of it. There was no journey for them to embark on at the moment—they were well and truly at the mercy of Malach and whoever he worked for. Sunny guessed that Camael was somehow in on it, too, as it couldn’t be a coincidence that Gideon had rifled through her memories for no reason.
She’d have to tell the team about Gideon’s second visit, but she still hadn’t worked out what level of detail she’d provide about how much she had allowed him access. That particular detail, that she’d allowed him to enter her subconscious because she’d purposely left her guard down, was better left unsaid at this point.
The team might be 100 percent against Gideon and would want to forbid and prevent any chance he had of getting access to Sunny, but his information had proven true. And while she recognized that it was a game he was baiting her along in, she wasn’t a hapless victim. She was going to use him for whatever she could gain, too.
Showered and cleaned up, she rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand as she heard Asmodeus take a seat somewhere in the small living room.
“Do you think Agares was badly injured?”
He’d been gone once they rounded everyone up. She still didn’t know if Eli was even aware of the fact that the old demon had battled alongside them at the rock formations in El Morro.
“One can only hope,” Asmodeus said with a sniff. “Maybe a few blows to the head will knock him down a few pegs. His ego can be insufferable.”
Sunny bit back on some takes one to know one comment she had on the tip of her tongue and let that slide instead.
“He can’t die easily, can he?” She wasn’t exactly sure what she was asking, only knowing that she needed reassurance.
<
br /> “From the wounds he suffered today? No,” Asmodeus said. “We should talk, by the way, about your calling on him.”
She knew it was only a matter of time. She had so many things she needed to tell her team and she found herself exhausted beyond words.
“We’re going to reconvene tomorrow and plan, right?” she asked, hoping she could put that conversation off a little while longer.
“About the next steps? Yes. But not about summoning. Only Metatron really seemed to notice and he was probably grateful the old coot had brought along the Zera staff.” He explained that the Guardians had access to very special weapons. Some of them anyway—many had lost them over the years. But not Agares.
“Do you think Nino panicked?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Probably,” the archdemon breathed. “Malach can throw even the most steadfast warrior off, and something tells me Nino isn’t the most steadfast of the bunch.”
He was pretty jumpy and unsure of himself, despite volunteering to fill Plaxo’s role. Poor guy. Sunny felt bad for him.
“Now, back to what we were talking about,” Asmodeus doubled back, just as Sunny knew he would. “Why did you call him?”
“Am I in trouble?” She wasn’t bristling at his tone, exactly, so much as she didn’t really like it. He was getting a little haughty with her and speaking down to her.
Asmodeus let out a long-suffering sigh and scrubbed his hand over his face, his patience clearly running out.
“You’re going to be the non-cursed death of me, Solomon,” he said. “As your Guardian advisor, I need to understand your instincts. Why call on just one and not four? Why not Beleth who has all the rage in the world? Or Baal who is inherently stronger with his magic?”
Well, for one, she had no idea how strong Baal was. But she didn’t mention that.
“I called one because I don’t think I am strong enough to control all four at the same time yet,” she said. “I called Agares because I feel like I have at least established some sort of rapport with him. Baal is going to try to make a deal of some sort that I’ll pay for later. Beleth is too wild and angry and, to be perfectly honest, insane. And Zepar didn’t seem well-suited to that particular battle.”
“Why not?”
She thought about it a moment. “He seems more like my diplomat,” she answered. “I know nothing about his command abilities on the battlefield, though I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough, but I know he’s well suited to travel great distances easily and to deliver messages. I even think he’s a half-decent negotiator.”
Asmodeus was nodding as she spoke.
“Not bad,” he said. “Baal would have been the better choice in this fight, as he would not have taken the amount of damage that Agares did. Agares is old, even for a demon, and while his pride still wants him to fight, you’ll do well to remember that he’s the most breakable of your lot.”
Sunny suddenly felt bad for putting him in danger.
“Shit,” she swore.
“Baal will try to make deals with you, as they all will, but in the end, they are yours to command,” he said. “They will do what you wish in service to the breaking of the curse, but they will try to get as many boons from you as possible. The boons serve as a bargaining chip and a way to get them to trust you. Use them too freely and they’ll take advantage of you. Not enough and they’ll resent you.”
Sunny frowned.
“How do I find a good balance between those two?”
Asmodeus didn’t give her the answer she wanted right away.
“That’s between you and your Guardians,” he simply said before continuing on with the lesson. “Beleth is all animal rage right now—you were right to not call on her. But soon you’ll need to work with her and get her to respect your power as an individual and a commander of the 72. It won’t be fun, but the more work you put in with her, the more honed she will become as a weapon. Nothing can top Beleth in battle when she is focused and behind the mission.”
Beleth was terrifying. Sunny shuddered at the thought of having to call her up again.
“And finally, you have it entirely right, Zepar is going to be your negotiator when we are off the battlefield,” he said. “He seduces. He coaxes. He’s very good at it.”
“And Agares?” she asked, still feeling guilty.
“He’s a font of knowledge for you and I encourage you to seek his council and training more freely when the time permits. He will help you establish plans and tactics once the players are established and the pieces in place.”
She took in what Asmodeus said and thought about it.
“And you?” She was curious where Asmodeus thought he fit into the scheme.
“I am an indentured servant working on my release,” he simply said. “I do what I need to keep you alive while you prepare yourself—if you die, my chances of release drop to nearly nothing. Selfish reasonings, I assure you. But I take my duties seriously. On that, you may rely.”
She did.
The road ahead of them was long and winding, but she had a few starting points on what she needed to work on. As much as they made her nervous, she was going to have to get to know the generals more. She was going to need to learn to command a powerful legion of demons without showing weakness or fear, and she was going to have to stand toe to toe with an unknown enemy that had more pieces in play already than Sunny had at her disposal altogether.
When everyone went their separate ways after a simple dinner of hamburgers and sodas, Sunny had little idea that Death’s identity wasn’t going to remain a secret much longer.
*****
She slept with her guard down again. Sunny knew she was testing fate by doing so, but she needed more answers than her team could provide and it seemed like the link she had with Gideon was a good way of getting that information.
Sleep didn’t evade her. She fell deeply and quickly and when the familiar tug was there after a short while, she followed it, fully expecting to see Gideon waiting for her in some strange world he’d created. He’d thrown her for a loop when their last meeting had zero background decorations.
Instead of Gideon, however, she found Plaxo waiting for her. And instead of a blank, black nothingness around her, she found herself on a battlefield with dead bodies as far as the eyes could see. Fires blazed around the field and it was hard to tell which army was which—or even who the victors were. There were no banners delineating specific sides, and from what she could tell, either there were no victors whatsoever, or they’d already left.
Plaxo stood in the near distance and she walked unsteadily over discarded weapons and supplies to reach him.
The dream demon looked healed, for the most part. His coloring was much paler than usual and he now had thick scarring on his throat and neck, but he managed a weak smile in greeting as she reached him.
“How are you?” she asked, dropping to her knees in front of him so they were eye level.
“Better each day, Lady Hunter,” he said. “Plaxo is sorry for the way the last battle went. Nino admitted he fled and did not help and Plaxo can offer no excuse for him. Nino has shamed us all.”
His words were harsh and heated and she felt bad for Nino and whatever punishments he was likely facing.
“What are we doing here? Why aren’t you coming back?”
“Plaxo is still not well enough to speak in the waking world,” he said, motioning to his neck. “And there is a message I must share with you.”
His voice got a little ominous—meaning, it wasn’t a happy message he’d been tasked with sharing with her. She took in a deep breath.
“What’s the message?” she finally ventured to ask.
Plaxo motioned with his hand to the battlefield that surrounded them.
“This,” he said. “This is the message. Death has given Plaxo a vision of what’s to come if we don’t surrender and Plaxo was tasked with delivering it to Lady Hunter.”
Well, the message was certainly bleak.
“And Plaxo was able to use the connection he established to learn Death’s identity,” Plaxo said with a shaky breath. “If Lady Hunter will allow, Plaxo will show all to you now.”
She was suddenly unsure if she was ready, but she nodded anyway.
Ready or not…
Chapter Thirty-three
In this vision, that her as-unseen enemy had provided her dream demon friend, the humans had basically gotten their asses kicked. The battle field she met Plaxo on, she learned a few moments later, was the final fight between the Four Horsemen (and their angelic followers, or the Heavenly Host) and the humans who had banded together to muster a fight.
The vision moved from the end of the timeline backwards, so Sunny started with an idea of what was at stake—namely, about half a million human lives if the dead in front of her and Plaxo’s words rang true.
“That many?”
“That many.”
Plaxo was incredibly somber through the entire vision and was tight lipped. She wasn’t sure if he was showing her the entirety of what had been shared with him, either. Something told her what Plaxo had seen was much, much worse.
The scene changed and she saw an angelic looking warrior in all white armor standing in the middle of a large city. She couldn’t read the script on the signs, but she could hazard a guess that they were somewhere in China. The face of the warrior was obscured from view, but she watched as he made a series of motions in the air in front of him and ripped open a portal before stepping back. Feral angels poured through, bigger and meaner looking than the ones she’d seen, and took off in every direction. In an instant, they were everywhere in every corner of the busy neighborhood, but none of the people seemed to notice. They were invisible.
Screams began to rise up from some of the apartments in the building closes to the white warrior.
“They are called riders or Horsemen,” Plaxo said softly, pointing to the figure.
The Horsemen of the Apocalypse—Sunny had studied them at Asmodeus’ insistence in case whoever was behind this latest Armageddon was a traditionalist and had plans on sticking somewhat to the established script. So far, it seemed like they were, but Sunny didn’t know who she was watching.
