Lethal Rider

by Larissa Ione

  She snarled. “Would you argue with Michael if he suggested that perhaps it was time to turn the duty over to someone else?”

  Well, yeah, Reaver would, but he’d never been cautious with his tongue. He could see how others might not argue with the archangel, however.

  “And the Horsemen,” she spat. “They didn’t come to my defense. They didn’t care that I was replaced.” Her eyes flashed. “I loved them, and after all I did for them, they didn’t so much as wish me pleasant travels.”

  Reaver experienced a moment of sympathy, but it was quickly squashed when she brought down a rain of tiny electrical shocks on him—tiny in size, but each one carried the power of a nuclear power plant. Pain ripped through him, burning his blood and turning his skin to ash. His vision doubled, as if one Gethel wasn’t bad enough.

  “Your demon-fighting tricks don’t work on me, Reaver.” Her voice was both amused and cold, laughter hung with icicles.

  With a cold smile of his own, he summoned a flame sword and spun it low, letting himself experience a grim satisfaction when it buried itself in her gut. Her cry of agony and fury rattled the chains hanging in the room. She launched herself a foot off the ground and spun, becoming a whirlwind of white.

  Reaver hurled himself to the floor as she unleashed a storm of sparks that bored holes in everything they landed on—including Reaver.

  Groaning, his body riddled with through-and-through holes that turned him into a giant sieve, he lurched to his feet. Time to play dirty. Spending time with demons while he was fallen was going to pay off.

  He threw off the pain, channeling it into anger, and called forth one of his favorite weapons, one he rarely got a chance to use. The shear-whip’s handle was hot in his hand, but ice-cold compared to the molten metal that comprised the scourge part of the weapon.

  Gethel’s eyes shot wide. “It’s against angel law to use this weapon against another angel!”

  Reaver bared his teeth. “You’re no angel. You’re Fallen. You just haven’t had the decency to lose your wings.”

  Pivoting, he snapped the whip, and in the softest whisper, it severed one of her wings. “One down.” He snapped it again, cutting into her rib cage and shattering every bone in her upper body.

  This time her scream of rage and pain exploded inside Reaver’s head, the agony so intense he crashed to his knees. Blood spurted from his nose, ears, eyes.

  A rolling thunder rang out, like a million buffalo hooves on stone. Demons, presumably summoned by Gethel, came at him from all sides. They swarmed him, hundreds of clawed, fanged mutants.

  “You…won’t…win,” he rasped, but had no way of knowing if Gethel heard him.

  She was crawling away, her broken body failing her. No way. She wasn’t escaping. She needed to either die or be brought to justice for her crimes against humanity and Heaven.

  Reaver dug deep into his power reserves, his body buzzing as the current that started at the base of his skull and in his wings formed a circuit. A golden glow surrounded him, blinding the demons that were almost on him. Their shrieks filled the air and added to Reaver’s already throbbing eardrums. He gritted his teeth against the pain and let his banked power loose.

  He went supernova, shooting blasts of Heavenly light from every pore. The demons disintegrated, their screams fading to echoes as their ashes drifted to the floor.

  But among the ashes was a glow. Wormwood. Its hilt, etched with a word Reaver couldn’t make out, radiated with azure brilliance absorbed from Reaver’s Heavenly light. It was an angelic weapon.

  Breathing deeply, Reaver caught himself on the altar as he bent to pick up the dagger. When he read the four-letter word carved into the hilt next to a star symbol, he fumbled it, barely catching the blade before it tumbled to the ground.

  DOOM.

  The Doom Star cometh if the cry fails.

  Oh…oh, damn.

  The Aegis had been wrong about the Doom Star in Thanatos’s prophecy. It wasn’t Halley’s Comet. It was Wormwood.

  Now Reaver had a decision to make. A decision that rightfully belonged to the Horsemen. But as he weighed Wormwood in his hand, he had a feeling he knew which decision they’d make. And it wasn’t the one Reaver wanted.

  Closing his eyes, he decided to do something he swore he’d never do.

  He was going to break a Watcher rule.

  And dear God, he was going to pay.

  Thirty-seven

  Thanatos couldn’t have run faster if he’d been a cheetah. He burst into the bedroom where Eidolon was waiting, and lay Regan on the bed. “The baby’s coming.”

  Of course the doctor knew that, but Thanatos was freaked out of his gourd. At least it looked like the bleeding had stopped, so that had to be good news.

  Regan screamed like she was being ripped apart, and his heart was right there with her. Although he could scarcely spare the time, he kissed her sweat-drenched forehead. Her eyes were wild, fevered, and she clutched his arm with such desperation that his eyes stung.

  “There’s his head.” Eidolon’s gloved hands cupped the baby’s head as he tried to deliver the child while not coming into contact with the mother. “Take a breath, and then give me another push, Regan.”

  Than tore his eyes away from the amazing sight of his son being born to Regan, whose gaze clung to him as firmly as her hand was doing to his. “We have Pestilence,” he rasped. “Everything will be all right.”

  She gave him a weak nod and released him. “Go. Save our son.”

  Save our son. Not, “Save the world.”

  Please, please God, let Regan and the baby come through this, because I need this woman like I need to breathe.

  As Lore came in with Idess, Than rushed to his dresser, grabbed Deliverance, and in a mad dash ran to the great room. Ares and Limos were holding Pestilence down, although at the moment he didn’t seem to be moving.

  Thanatos’s heart was pounding, his pulse thundering in his ears as he threw himself on top of his brother and straddled his thighs. This was it. This was what it had all come down to.

  Limos’s eyes caught his. “His finger twitched. It’s wearing off.”

  “I see it, too,” Ares said. “His foot’s moving.”

  Thanatos swallowed dryly, his mind whirling with a thousand thoughts. How was Regan? How was the baby? Were they scared? Was he really going to kill his brother?

  That last question was a no-brainer, a fleeting thought that popped into his head maybe because it should. But he had never been more prepared to do anything. He’d kill anyone to save his wife and child.

  Wife? Yes, because once they were through this, he was going to marry her.

  Please, please let them get through this.

  “Fuck.”

  Ares’s whisper jerked Than out of his thoughts. He looked down into Pestilence’s eyes … eyes that were aware. Mocking. Even his mouth had turned up into a smile. Between Than’s thighs, Pestilence’s legs began to move.

  And then, ringing out in the hushed castle air, came the pure, healthy sound of a baby’s cry.

  In a smooth, fast arc, Thanatos brought down Deliverance and buried it in Pestilence’s heart. The baby’s cry cut off. Pestilence gasped. Blood sprayed from his lips. His eyes, which had gleamed with so much evil, clouded over, and in that instant Thanatos knew Pestilence was gone. In his place, Reseph stared back at Than.

  “Th-thank… you.” Reseph’s voice was little more than a whisper, but what was there was thick with relief.

  And then he was gone.

  Beneath Than, Reseph’s body disintegrated, caving in on itself until only clothing remained. Even Deliverance had disappeared.

  I killed my brother. Than’s throat seized. He hadn’t expected that. He’d been prepared—eager, really—to kill Pestilence. But not Reseph. Jesus, not Reseph.

  There was silence. So much silence. Should it be so quiet when you’d just killed the brother you’d loved for thousands of years? And how could he be feeling both shock and relief? Pain
and numbness. Impossible combinations.

  “Thanatos.” The voice was coming from some-where…“Thanatos.” He blinked, cranked his head around to Cara. The tears in her eyes weren’t ones of joy. “You need to hurry.”

  No. Oh, God, please no …Than sprinted into the bedroom, his heart racing. He stumbled to a halt at the threshold, his heart jamming right against his ribcage.

  The nurse, Vladlena, held Than’s squirming son—clearly the boy was fine, and as much as Than wanted to go to him, it was the baby’s mother who held his concern.

  Regan lay on the floor in a pool of blood as Shade and E worked frantically over her, their dermoires glowing.

  She was pale—much too pale.

  “What’s going on?” Than rushed to her side and knelt next to her. “Why is she on the floor?”

  “We needed more room to work,” Shade said.

  “Regan?”

  Her eyes opened. The fierce, defiant gleam he was used to had been replaced by a hazy veil of pain and exhaustion. Death lurked within that cloud as well, mocking Thanatos.

  “Did … we … do … it?”

  “Yes,” Than croaked. “Pestilence is gone.” He took her hand. So cold. “You’re going to be okay. But I need you to fight.”

  “Will you…hold my hand?”

  He didn’t tell her he was already squeezing it so hard she should be in pain. He glanced up at E, whose somber gaze said it all.

  Tears burned in Than’s eyes. “I wish we’d had more time. I would have liked to pamper you for those nine months. I would have taken care of you.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I love… you.” She closed her eyes and in his palm, her hand went limp.

  “No,” he croaked. “No, no no!” He reached over and grabbed Eidolon by the collar. “Do something!”

  “I’m sorry. She lost too much blood before the baby was born. The internal damage is too much for even me if there’s no blood left in her.”

  Desperate, Than released the doctor. Regan still had a pulse, but barely. Ten heartbeats left, maybe. There was only one thing left to do, and he hoped to hell it worked. And that she’d forgive him.

  With a hiss, he tugged her head to the side and bit into her jugular. Her pulse was too weak, the vein too collapsed to pump blood into his mouth. Urgency drove him to suck deeply, hoping her circulatory system would move the blood still left in her veins to deliver the vampire-turning agent in his saliva.

  Her heart stopped.

  So did his. Anguish turned the air in his lungs to cement. A familiar chill of awareness flickered in the back of his mind, and he dragged in a sudden, panicked breath. He looked up, trembling, knowing what he’d see.

  Regan’s soul.

  He leaped off the bed and stared at her shadowy form. She was confused, her eyes wet with unshed tears as her gaze met his with what he swore was accusation. Or maybe that was just his guilt talking. But it didn’t matter. He’d killed her, and now she was going to become part of his armor, tormented to the point of insanity by the captivity and by the other souls until she finally escaped and made a kill.

  Which would then send her straight to Sheoul-gra.

  Instead of giving her eternal life, he’d given her eternal death and damned the woman he loved to hell.

  Thirty-eight

  Thanatos screamed his throat raw as Regan melted into his body. It didn’t hurt, not physically, but mentally, it was excruciating. He’d killed her. Doomed her. And now she was suffering.

  Only rarely could he feel the souls when he wasn’t wearing his armor, and normally that was a good thing. But not this time. Not now. He had to find her, latch onto the awareness that was uniquely her life force. Maybe he didn’t deserve to be comforted by her presence, but he hoped she’d be comforted by his.

  As Limos and Ares stormed into the room, alerted by Than’s screams, he armored up. Instantly, the whirling vibration of the souls filtered through his body. Dragging in a shaky breath, he sorted through them, locked onto Regan, and collapsed into the chair beside the bed.

  “Thanatos?” The concern in Limos’s voice gave it a higher pitch than normal, and when she saw Regan’s lifeless body, her voice broke low. “I’m so sorry.” She went to her knees next to the chair and braced her forehead on his arm.

  Thanatos stared blindly, barely registering the fact that the medical people were filing out, leaving him alone with Limos and Ares.

  And his son.

  Ares had taken the infant from Vladlena and very carefully placed the swaddled baby against Than’s chest, forcing him to wrap his arm around his son. Than’s heart kicked, and he jerked as if he’d been dead and someone had shocked him back to life. Inside him, his blood warmed and Regan’s spirit quieted. Even the baby, who had been whimpering, settled peacefully in the crook of Than’s arm.

  A sob escaped him as he dropped his gaze, getting his first true look at the child he and Regan had made. The baby’s eyes were hazel, like Regan’s, his wisps of hair as blond as Than’s. He was a perfect mix of the two of them.

  “He’s beautiful,” Than whispered. As if in agreement, Regan seemed to caress him from the inside. “Regan thinks so, too.” His voice cracked at that, and dear God, how was he going to survive this?

  Limos lifted her head to exchange glances with Ares. “Ah, Than? Regan … she didn’t make it.”

  No shit. He stroked his finger over the baby’s velvety soft cheek. “She’s in my armor.”

  “Oh … damn.” Ares drove his hand through his hair. “Are you okay?”

  Thanatos looked up. “No.” He swallowed against the lump of misery in his throat, but that bastard wasn’t going anywhere. “I need her. I’ve got to do something.”

  But what? He’d failed to turn her, and now her body was an empty shell while her soul rested inside him. She was at peace right now, but it wouldn’t be long before the other souls began to torment her, and it would be even worse when he took off his armor and couldn’t control the souls.

  He’d never remove his armor again.

  “Maybe Reaver can guide her soul out,” Ares suggested. “You won’t have to worry about her that way.”

  Thanatos was willing to try anything to prevent Regan from being sent to Sheoul-gra once she escaped the armor. He just had to hope Reaver was receptive to the idea. And was capable of doing it.

  “It’s worth a try.”

  “I’ll see if he’s back.” Ares jogged out of the room and was back in a flash. “He’s not here. I hope he’s kicking Gethel’s traitorous ass. In any case, I’ve sent a summons.”

  Thanatos couldn’t wait. Regan didn’t deserve a single minute inside the hell of his armor, but who else dealt in souls? Wait…

  “Where’s Idess? Is she okay?”

  Limos nodded. “Eidolon healed her. She’s in the great room. Why?”

  “I need her to take me to her father.” The male who could also be the Horsemen’s father.

  There was a pause and then Limos’s eyes flared. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “If you’re thinking that he’s the Grim Reaper and if anyone can help, he can, then yes.”

  She was up in a heartbeat. “I’ll be right back.”

  Than reached up and took his sister’s hand. “Thank you, Li. I won’t forget this.”

  Tears sprang into her eyes. “I might not have liked Regan at first, but she gave you something you haven’t had in five thousand years. You were happy. And she gave you a son. I’ll do anything for the three of you.”

  Closing his eyes, he leaned back and held his son close. Than had meant it when he’d told Regan he would have loved to have pampered her for the months he missed out on while their son was growing inside her. Hell, he’d have pampered her for the rest of her life. He’d have given her anything she wanted.

  Now all he could give her was peace.

  Thirty-nine

  A massive ebony Greek temple rose up out of the mist in front of Thanatos. Blackened pillars and build
ings surrounded it, all familiar, and yet, he couldn’t place it. After a few steps, as the fog cleared away, he realized that this was Athens. Not the real Athens, but an imitation land where everything was corrupted by evil and death.

  Thanatos should be right at home, shouldn’t he, he thought bitterly.

  Idess had been more than willing to help him, and as he carried Regan’s dead body in his arms and her soul in his armor, Idess touched his back in a gesture of strength and comfort.

  “Thank you for rescuing me from Pestilence.”

  He didn’t want to discuss it, but his brother had tortured her and she deserved more than silence. “I’m sorry for what he did to you. Pestilence was as desperate to find your father as I was.” Pestilence’s goal had probably been as much to destroy their father as it was to gain access to Sheoul-gra. More of that getting rid of anything personal thing.

  “Why did you want to find Azagoth?”

  Than stared blankly ahead. “It doesn’t matter now.” Yeah, he wanted to confront his father for a lot of reasons, but those reasons weren’t nearly as important anymore.

  Idess’s expression grew hard. “Well, Pestilence would never have found him. I wouldn’t have given anything up.” Her strength reminded him of Regan, and he nearly faltered as he mounted the giant steps to the temple.

  “Are you sure I had to bring her body with us?” he asked hoarsely.

  Idess’s sad smile almost made him break down again. No, he hadn’t taken it well when she’d told him, nor when he’d had to put down his son to leave his keep. The boy was now part of Than’s heart, and being away from him seemed to make it stop pumping.

  “No,” she admitted, “but if he can see you with her, your pain might be more…real…to him.” She started forward. “He’s not the warmest individual you’ll ever meet, so you have to take advantage where you can find it.”

  The King Kong-esque double doors opened, and inside, endless passages stretched as far as Than could see. Everything was black, just like outside, except that inside the temple, all the surfaces gleamed. Statues of humans and demons in pain lined the rooms and halls, and the fountain they walked past in the giant fore-room ran with blood.