Immortal Rider lod-2

by Larissa Ione

  Limos had no doubt that Pestilence was behind the shifter plague, his way of sending a message. Namely, that once the Apocalypse started, shifters had better side with him, or he’d take them all out with a touch of a finger.

  Vladlena took off just as Kynan stepped out of the gate, his denim blue eyes instantly zeroing in on Limos. “What’s this about?” he said by way of greeting.

  “Nice to see you too,” she muttered. “Come on. I have something to show you. Something you might find helpful.” The lie stroked all her pleasure centers and made her a little dizzy.

  Kynan cursed, but entered the Harrowgate with her. Since he had been charmed by angels, he had little to fear, but it didn’t surprise her that when the gate opened inside the t K inbeeomb, he hesitated.

  “If this is a trap—”

  “It’s not.” But yeah, she could understand his concern. She’d brought him to a sealed tomb, and if she opened a gate and got out without him, he would be trapped until his friends found him… which could be a long, long time. “See that stone box? It’s an Aegis vault. I found it while I was searching for my agimortus.”

  A shot of adrenaline streamed into her veins, and for a moment, she had to breathe through the lovely jolt. It had been so long since she’d told such a big lie, so long since she’d gotten a forbidden thrill from it, that she’d forgotten how great it felt.

  The weigh scales on her shoulder blade made a substantial tip in favor of evil, reminding her of the gravity of what she’d just done. The farther the scales tipped and the longer they remained weighted toward evil, the poorer choices she made, the less she cared about anyone but herself. Worse, she’d enjoy others’ suffering. She’d start famines for fun, and all it would take was a touch. She could lay her finger on a single man, and it wouldn’t matter how much food he ate—he’d slowly starve, and everyone he came into contact with would suffer the same fate. All the while, she’d laugh. She’d make Pestilence look like a Boy Scout.

  Damn you, brother.

  Kynan was silent as a cat as he crept up to the box and knelt next to it. Pestilence had left it open, the heavy lid askew. Kynan’s assessing gaze traveled over the Aegis symbol on the lid, and then carefully, he picked up one of the coins inside, using his thumb to wipe off the dust.

  “What is all that stuff?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Some of these pieces could be enchanted, used in certain rituals… I’m not sure. We’ll need to study them.” He glanced over at her. “You’re old… have you seen any of these before?”

  Old? “I prefer to think of myself as worldly, and no. I’ve never seen them before.” The lie slammed more pleasure into her body. Funny how the fib could give her physical gratification, but mental anguish. Some small part of her actually hoped Kynan didn’t fall for this even as a tingly high fired along every nerve ending. “Do you guys find a lot of these forgotten Aegis chambers?”

  Whatever Pestilence’s plan was, it could hinge on the believability of her happening upon a lost Aegis treasure trove.

  “Every once in a while,” he said. “Records have been lost, so some of these places have been long forgotten. And in other cases, someone was given a task in haste, an object that needed to be hidden, and then, before the Guardian could reveal the location, they died. So yeah, there are a number of chambers we know exist but can’t locate, and hiding places we never knew about that we stumble across. And with the Apocalypse coming at us, discoveries are popping up in record numbers.”

  “Because things once hidden want to be found when doomsday is nigh,” she murmured, quoting an ancient Aegis prophet she’d met back in the days before Christianity.

  “Exactly.” KE when doom Kynan traced his finger over one of the necklaces at the bottom of the vault. “As the end of days nears, secrets are revealed.”

  Secrets revealed. Limos did not like the sound of that. She closed her eyes, trying to black out her past, her guilt, and not doing a very good job. She’d deceived so many, from the very day she’d walked out of Sheoul to now. And as much as she wanted to warn Kynan about the objects she’d led him to, she couldn’t. Too much was at stake. The artifacts were in The Aegis’s hands now, and what they did with them wasn’t her concern.

  A scratching sound had her opening her eyes to see Kynan brushing sand away from the base of the stone box.

  “What are you doing?”

  He licked his lips, his expression one of intense concentration. “Sometimes these boxes have hidden compartments.”

  She squatted down. “Can I help?”

  “I wouldn’t. They’re usually warded so that if anyone but a Guardian tries to open them, either the contents are destroyed, or the person trying to get in gets a nasty surprise.”

  He pressed on a carved symbol with his forefinger. There was a grinding noise, followed by a puff of sand that made them both cough. Kynan waved his hand to clear the brown cloud, and as the particles fell away, a drawer was revealed. Inside were three fragile-looking scrolls.

  “Cool,” she breathed.

  She wondered if Pestilence had known about the drawer. Maybe this find would make up for whatever evil Pestilence was up to with the artifacts.

  Kynan picked one up. “Seals are intact.” His smile, as he looked up at her, was one that could make a woman drunk with want. “Thanks, Limos. Between the artifacts and the scrolls, this could prove to be one of our best finds in a long time.”

  Guilt soured her mouth. “Yeah. No problem. You ready to go?”

  Kynan unfurled to his full height, which was well over six feet. “Yep. Just one minute.”

  He carefully filled his pockets with the treasures. “If you can take me to Berlin, I’d be grateful.”

  “Specific location?”

  “Nope.” His smile told her he didn’t want to give away the location of The Aegis’s headquarters, which she got.

  She threw open a gate. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm, and she resisted the urge to throw him across the chamber for touching her. Not that she could. Trying to injure Kynan was useless. “Are you making any progress in locating Arik?”

  “No,” she said softly, “I haven’t. I’m on my way back to the hellmouth, though.”

  Her cell beeped, and she checked it, expecting Than, but what she saw made her blood run both ho Kd rwidt and cold. “Oh… God.”

  “What is it?”

  The update flashing on her underworld app filled the chamber with an eerie glow. “The gambling network. It’s buzzing.” Pains stabbed her chest, and for a second she was pretty sure she was having a heart attack. “The odds of Arik dying tomorrow just tanked.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “No,” she whispered. “It’s not.” She looked up. “The rumor is that he escaped. Odds now are that he’ll be dead in an hour.”

  * * *

  “Hey, Pest.” The light tone Arik went for didn’t make it past his parched, raw throat.

  “Did you really think you were going to escape?”

  Arik swung around, hoping his wince at the painful twinge in his hip came across as a casual smile. “Nah. I broke out to get some exercise. How’d you find me, anyway?”

  Pestilence, his big body encased in tarnished armor that oozed oily stuff at the joints, rubbed his chin as though deep in thought. As if the fucker had more than one brain cell. “Spiny hellrats are my spies. But for what it’s worth, it was a noble attempt. Impressive, actually.”

  “I live for your admiration.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Arik’s stomach rumbled, the sound magnified by the tunnel’s acoustics, which was a little embarrassing. “What is it you want from me? ’Cuz I gotta tell ya, there’s very little you can do that hasn’t been done.”

  The Horseman smiled, exposing some serious fangage. “We’re going to get close, you and I. Very, very close.”

  Arik swallowed. Tried to, anyway. His throat was too dry. But he definitely didn’t like the sound of Pest
ilence’s close thing. “Look, I’m sure you make all the lady demons cream their panties, but I’m just not that into you.”

  “You’re into Horsemen, though, aren’t you? You’re here because you couldn’t keep your hands off my sister.” Pestilence shrugged. “I’m not judging. She’s got that unattainable bad girl quality going on. Took balls for you to kiss her, what with you being a pathetic human and all.”

  Too exhausted to banter any more, Arik slumped against the wall of the cave. “Just do whatever you came to do. Take me back to the cell. Kill me. Whatever. I’m tired of the games.”

  Pestilence was in Arik’s face in a heartbeat, his fingers wrapped around his throat. Arik didn’t even have a chance to fight back before he was lifted into the air and slammed into the stone with such force that his teeth rattled.

  “I would love to kill you right now, but I have other plans.” Pestilence knocked Arik against the wall again, and the crack of breaking bones echoed like gunshots off the stone walls.

  Pain set fire to every nerve ending. He dangled there, watching in horror as the fucker struck, sinking his huge-ass fangs into his throat. Arik punched, scratched, struggled as hard as he could, but nothing he did seemed to faze Pestilence.

  Gradually, blood loss sapped his strength, until his struggles amounted to little more than spastic twitches. He became lightheaded, woozy, and eventually all the pains and aches melted away, leaving him blissfully numb.

  Pestilence lifted his head, and though Arik’s vision had gone dark, he felt the rasp of the dude’s tongue sliding over the punctures. Crazily, Arik’s only thought was how vampire-like the whole thing was.

  Pestilence released him, and he dropped heavily to the ground, landing in a crumpled, motionless heap. Arik heard the clank of armor, and then something was against his mouth, and warm liquid was flowing over his tongue. At first, he was grateful for the wetness that relieved his parched tongue and throat, and he swallowed greedily.

  Until he realized the wetness was blood.

  Holy hell, he was drinking the Horseman’s blood—

  His body jackknifed as pain shot through him, and suddenly he was flopping around like a dying animal on the side of the road, his limbs out of control, his head banging on the stone floor. Pestilence wrestled him flat on the ground with his huge, armored body, forcing Arik to keep drinking, even though he wanted to vomit.

  White spots floated in front of his eyes, and darkness surrounded him, sucking him into a spinning vortex of oblivion.

  And then he was alone, lying on the ground. The narrow tunnel didn’t look familiar, and the ceiling was so low that an average-sized man would have to duck to walk through it. Mixed with the stifling, searing heat was a cool breeze. Well, not cool, exactly. More like a slightly less blistering breeze.

  And wait… what had happened? How had he gotten here? Why was he not in his cell?

  Didn’t matter. He needed to find the source of the breeze. He tried to get to his feet, but they wouldn’t work. Nothing below the waist worked. He supposed he should be panicking, but mentally, he was as numb as his lower body.

  The breeze beckoned him, and reaching deep for what little energy remained in his broken body, he dug his fingers into the black soil and dragged himself toward the fresh air. Heat blasted him, steam and smoke burned his eyes, and his fingernails tore. But little pinpricks of light appeared in the distance, giving him hope and the willpower to continue.

  He pulled himself along, grunting with every inch of progress, until finally, dear God finally, he found himself at the precipice between hell and the earth.

  And then he realized, as he stared into the gaping maw of a massive, bubbling volcano, that nothing had changed. He’d climbed out of hell, but this was no different. This was hell on earth.

  The volcano’s hellmouth looked the same to Limos as it had when she’d searched it earlier. Blackened, with steam rising toward it, though most of it was deflected by the air coming out of Sheoul.

  Kynan had come with her, gated straight from the chamber in Egypt. All she could think of was the gambling odds she’d seen. The demons who monopolized the underworld—and, now, the upperworld—gambling industry were eerily accurate, and the fact that they’d given Arik high odds of dying within an hour was beyond bad.

  “Where’s the entrance?” Kynan said, as he picked his way across a field of jagged rock.

  She jerked her head at the shimmering bubble that spread across a gaping hole in the side of the mountain. “Right there. Let’s go.”

  She started toward it, but a pained groan halted her in her tracks. Wheeling around, she zeroed in on a crack in the earth a few feet from the entrance to the tunnel. Was that a… hand? Yes. She bolted over stone as sharp as glass shards to where the hand became an arm, and then a torso and head became visible, and her heart went crazy.

  Arik.

  Dear… God. Mouth so dry she couldn’t swallow, she fell to her knees next to him. She’d seen so much in her lifetime, but the sight of this man, who had been so powerful, so healthy… but who was now gaunt, his skin shredded, blistered from the heat and blackened from ash… the horror of it made her own skin shrink. On her arm, Bones writhed at the scent of Arik’s blood.

  “Arik,” she whispered. “It’s me, Limos.”

  Kynan came up behind her, and his muttered, “Christ,” echoed through the crater. He went down on his heels and rested two fingers against Arik’s throat as he leaned over to put his cheek near Arik’s mouth. “He’s breathing. Pulse is erratic. We have to get him to—”

  Kynan leaped to his feet, startled by a swarm of demons that was charging from out of the hellmouth’s entrance. He drew his stang and turned to her. “Go! Take Arik!”

  Limos didn’t argue. She threw a Harrowgate and gathered Arik in her arms, surprised by his weight. He was thin, but he’d retained some muscle and had somehow kept more weight on him than she’d expected.

  An arrow sailed past her head as she stepped through the gate. It punched into a tree trunk outside her private Hawaiian villa, narrowly missing skewering her gardener. Keeping Arik tucked against her, she stepped into the sand. Her chef, housekeeper, and one of her three guards, all wolf shifters from a nearby pack, came running.

  “I need help carrying him to my room.” She nodded at her chef, Hekili. “Go to Underworld General and bring the doctor named Eidolon here. Quickly.”

  The others helped her get Arik settled on top of her frilly pink comforter. They brought her warm water and a washcloth, and while she waited for Eidolon, she wiped Arik down, making slow, gentle passes over his skin. What wasn’t scraped raw or cut open was inflamed and disco Kmedm walored; his fingertips had been worn to the bone, and his neck had been savaged by a pair of huge fangs. There wasn’t an inch of him that hadn’t been injured.

  “Oh, Arik,” she murmured. “If you just hadn’t kissed me. If you hadn’t made me want you…” One corner of his swollen mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile, and she jerked in surprise. “Can you hear me?”

  His cracked lips ruffled in a bigger smile before they settled into a pained, pinched line again. On impulse, she leaned over and touched her mouth to his, lightly, hoping for a response.

  Nothing. But then, what had she been hoping for? That he’d suddenly sit up, good as new? That her kiss would wake him from his torment? She’d always loved fairy tales, loved how princesses always got their princes, but this was no children’s fable where he’d magically get better because of her touch. This was a horror story, and it was her fault he was hurt in the first place.

  Sighing, she wiped away blood from a gash in his jaw. He’d been shaved recently, but she didn’t ponder that for too long—demon jailers often shaved their prisoners to keep their skin exposed and sensitive to torture.

  God, what he must have gone through. “I—” She cut herself off, unable to say it. I’m sorry. Growing up, she’d been forbidden to ever say those words. To ever feel sorry about any action. Sorry meant weakness. The one ti
me she’d apologized, to a messenger bringing word from her fiancé, her mother had punished Limos by gouging the male’s eyes out before throwing him to her slaves to defile.

  No… sorry was not a word to be thrown around lightly, and she’d said it only once since. Last month, when Ares’s servant, Torrent, had been killed, her brother’s pain had overridden her upbringing, just as Arik’s was threatening to do now.

  Eidolon, dressed in scrubs, arrived, ending her dark ruminations, and wouldn’t you know it, Shade was with him, looking all cocky in his black paramedic uniform. The brothers’ resemblance was so strong that if not for Eidolon’s short black hair and Shade’s longer hair, they could be mistaken as twins. Kynan came in behind them, dripping with demon blood.

  “You should have brought Arik to UG,” Eidolon said, as he crossed to the bed.

  The desire to make up some dramatic excuse niggled at her, because frankly, she could use a dose of euphoria right now, but she gritted her teeth and told the simple truth. “I didn’t want anyone to know he’s been found.”

  Eidolon grabbed a pair of shears from out of the red medic bag Shade placed at Arik’s feet. “Who is anyone?”

  “The demons he escaped from.” She glanced at Ky. “I’m assuming you killed the ones who attacked us?”

  “Yeah. Once you were gone, they tried to get back inside the hellmouth, but headless demons don’t go far.”

  Shade helped Eidolon cut off Arik’s shredded pants, and Limos practically shook with rage at the sight of swollen, bruised flesh and broken bones poking through skin. She would destroy the bastards who’d don Ks wge e this.

  “You don’t think anyone will guess Arik’s with you?” Shade asked.

  “No one knows where I live. Underworld General is sort of… famous. And I don’t trust your staff.”

  Eidolon shot her a dark look before palming Arik’s forehead, his dermoire glowing as he channeled his ability into the human. “He’s in bad shape. Really bad.” He frowned. “There’s a lot of healed damage. Holy hell, he’s had his ear drums punctured, every bone broken multiple times, his skull is a mass of fractures. His organs are caked with scar tissue.”