His Darkest Salvation

by Juliana Stone

  Jakobi lowered his head until he was inches away, and his whisper caressed her flesh as he smiled. “I haven’t had this much fun since the last time I saw your mother . . . alive.” He pressed his thumb into her esophagus, and she closed her eyes against his madness.

  “And we’ve only just started.”

  The pressure increased, her mind filled with crimson, then suddenly, his hands loosened and fell away. She clawed at him as her lungs expanded painfully, and she drew in great gulps of air.

  Surprise was mirrored in her father’s eyes, and she pushed him away, not understanding until she was able to slide from beneath him.

  Her brother, Degas, stood inches from her, a malicious smile resting upon his face as Jakobi leaned against the shelves in an effort to hold himself erect. Jaden staggered away, her mind confused as she took in the scene before her.

  Her dagger was embedded deep within Jakobi’s back, put there by her brother’s hand. She knew by the position, the charmed blade had cut through to his lungs, maybe even nicked his heart if he still had one.

  It was a fatal blow.

  Her father slowly turned though he fell to one knee as he looked up at Degas, cold fury etched upon his features. He opened his mouth to speak. Blood was already pooling at the corners, and nothing but a wheezing sound escaped.

  “You taught me well, Father. I’ve been waiting patiently for the right time to take my place at the head of this family,” Degas said calmly. He used his foot to push Jakobi to the ground, then he turned to Jaden, his tone flat. “And then there were two.” Laughter slid from between his thin lips as a smile lifted the corners. “But not for long.”

  Jaden eyed her brother carefully as her father’s lifeless body toppled over inches from her. She had seconds.

  Shadows played hide-and-seek around them, and the ominous evil that she’d sensed earlier was fully awake, feeding from the madness that surrounded her.

  It was now or never.

  She exploded into action, ripping the blade from her father’s flesh, ignoring the thick feel of it as it slid from his body. Anticipation was her friend, and fresh adrenaline fueled her limbs as she rose into the air and kicked outward, her heel connecting with Degas’s chest in a vicious blow.

  She knew that Benicio was on the move and whirled around, her dagger at the ready as the large cat rushed toward her. A guttural roar erupted from the darkness, and Benicio stumbled as a new player entered the game.

  A flash of gold cleared her vision. It was a jaguar.

  Julian.

  She had no time to process any of it.

  Degas slammed into her, his large frame taking her to the ground with him. Jaden’s only thought was to hold on to the dagger, her fingers aching with the effort it took to achieve that, and still, it slid from her grasp.

  They rolled along the concrete, a mess of limbs, curses, and determination.

  Jaden squirmed beneath her brother, her claws ripping into his chest. She knew only one of them would survive. Degas outweighed her by over a hundred pounds, most of it muscle, and tears pricked her eyes as she continued to struggle. Even with her warrior strength, he was too strong.

  His head crashed into hers, and a dull whack sounded as her skull connected with the hard floor. Stars floated in front of her eyes, and she blinked rapidly in an effort to clear her vision. She saw the dagger, it lay just out of reach. Fuck!

  His hands slid up the side of her skull, and he bent down so that his eyes were inches from hers.

  “Ready to join Father?” he asked.

  Jaden’s heart broke in that moment as she lay beneath a brother she once loved. A brother who’d taught her to ride a bike and had stood up to Alphonso, the neighborhood bully.

  So many things had been lost as the fragile thread that made up her life lay in tatters.

  She bucked wildly, and her body slid a few inches. She was close. Her fingers clawed along the wet pavement until she found the prize. She would not give in. Degas had made his choices, and now she must as well.

  Ready to join Father?

  She prayed for strength, and hissed, “Are you?”

  Her fingers grasped the edge of the blade and she attacked with all her might. She screamed, venting her pain, frustration, and rage as she heaved forward and swiped the dagger across Degas’s neck. She felt it cut through flesh and bone. She felt the warm spray of blood as it splattered against her flesh. He thrashed against her, and still she held, not relaxing until his body stilled.

  She turned from him, feeling the cold wet concrete at her back, and stared into the lifeless eyes of her father. A roaring echoed inside her head, gripping her painfully.

  And then she felt nothing.

  Chapter 29

  Julian leapt away from the dead jaguar, leaving its broken body to fall to the ground. His only thought was to get to Jaden, and her scream penetrated the black wall of rage that clouded his eyes.

  The ancient magick of his people slid over his limbs as he shifted back into human form. He was at her side in an instant and gripped the body on top of her, throwing Degas aside in his effort to get to her.

  Blood was everywhere, agitating his jaguar, and for a second his heart stopped cold.

  Was she dead?

  Pain the likes of which he’d not yet experienced rushed through him, gripping his heart and pulling every string available. Not even when he was ensconced deep within the armpit of hell, had he felt such anguish.

  Gently, he gathered her close, and when he heard her heart beating, felt the air in her lungs, something akin to peace settled over him. He shuddered from the strength of it.

  The darkness was still there, but he could manage. As long as she was alive.

  Her eyes flew open, stared up into his, and she shifted in his embrace, her arms encircling his chest with a strength that was surprising. He closed his eyes, relishing her touch, wanting her to crawl inside him.

  “Julian.” Her whispered word, the sound of her voice, was like a soothing balm that slid across his flesh.

  She trembled in his arms, and he pulled her away from the carnage that was her family. He buried his face within the silken length of her hair and inhaled her scent. He knew it was something he’d never lose. Her smell. The memory of her touch.

  Wherever the hell he ended up, at least he’d have that.

  He could have stayed like that for hours, simply drinking in the warmth of her flesh and the feel of her in his arms. There was no time.

  “Where is the rest of the team?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Nico, Ana, and I were doing a grid search, but the shadows, they . . .” She paused, and he felt her gather her strength. “They’re full of dark magick, and we became separated.”

  “We need to get to Declan.” His tone was urgent, and Jaden nodded in understanding.

  “Let’s do this,” she answered.

  His hand rose to gently remove the solitary tear she’d allowed to fall. She rested her cheek in his palm, her soft skin like velvet against his rough hand. Such need gripped him that he gritted his teeth until his jaw ached.

  She pulled away and turned without another look back. “Come on, Castille. We’ve a date with the devil.”

  His warrior woman had returned, sliding back into her skin with ease.

  Julian snarled as he scooped up the remnants of his trousers and followed her into the dark.

  Declan felt dead eyes watching him from the shadows. He paid them no mind. The shades were there in abundance, but they held back, wary of the power that clung to him.

  The bastards were smart to stay away.

  Small puffs of mist evaporated as he exhaled slowly. Just ahead, he saw the outline of a large contained area. Above it, the thread of energy that called to him writhed and shimmered in a chaotic blend of mist and magick. It coated the room in a protective shield, and he felt the power of it hanging in the air.

  It really was stunning. He’d have to compliment Cormac on it.

&
nbsp; His dark eyes narrowed, and his mouth thinned as he cautiously made his way forward. Noises slid out from the dark, whispers and howls of pain. He ignored them all, his focus concentrated on the room.

  Azaiel was inside, as was his father. He could feel it. The fallen might be Julian’s priority, but it wasn’t his. Bill the elf could go screw himself. The driving need to see his father pay for his sins was what had gotten him through his darkest hours in hell.

  He’d imagined so many ways. Christ, it was the only bright spot.

  His chest burned, and he hissed, as his hand automatically passed over the scarred flesh. It had been killing him for hours, the clean precise lines a constant reminder of the emptiness inside him.

  It told him that the end was near. He was cool with that.

  He tapped into the well of power that was inside him, the one that had fed from the purest fountain of evil. Lilith. He let it expand and soak into his cells as he moved his hands in the air, weaving an intricate spell as the energy flowed through him.

  He would break the protection ward and destroy his father. It was the only reason he’d come back. The only reason he’d danced with Lilith.

  You came back for Ana. He pushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter anymore.

  Darkness pulled at him hard, and he panted from the force of it. It was a delicate balance, the line between good and evil. He just needed to hold on a bit longer. There was no other option.

  Minutes passed as he worked feverishly to break through the wards his father had constructed. The shades disappeared altogether; he felt their presence lessen as he worked and knew they were part of the intricate pattern his father had created.

  “Declan.”

  He stilled, his gut tightening as his frame tensed. He gave no indication he’d heard anything, though her voice, low and rough, like she’d inhaled a bottle of whiskey, touched a chord inside of him that stretched painfully.

  She’d always had that effect on him. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d been done for.

  Ana.

  She was the one woman on the planet who could literally have him by the balls and didn’t give a damn either way.

  She stepped into his line of sight, and the two of them stared at each other in silence. The world faded into gray swirling mist and white noise. Her long amber waves hung in tangles, dampness curling the ends wildly. Her dress had been ripped off well above the knee, leaving a vast expanse of bare leg, and her eyes shone like round pools of licorice.

  He saw the edges of her fangs; they were distended, and he could tell by the way her chest rose and fell rapidly that the vampire was on edge.

  She should be. The night was rancid with the scent of evil. He should know. He’d been inhaling a steady diet of it for months.

  “Where are the others?” he asked, not pleased to see her. Ana owned the damaged, ripped pieces of his soul, yet she didn’t care. He didn’t have the time or energy to waste worrying about her.

  He wanted to deal with Cormac on his own.

  “I don’t know where Jaden got to . . . we became separated,” she hissed, and shook her head. “This place is not for the living. It’s haunted.”

  Declan arched a brow. “Well, technically you’re already dead, so I suppose you feel right at home then.”

  Her face froze, the eyes huge, as her features shifted, and the cold facade he’d come to know so well slid into place, nice and easy. The woman would never change, and he was through playing games.

  He started forward as the flame of anger inside him erupted, begging to ignite into an inferno. Ana squared her shoulders and stood her ground, meeting him like the warrior that she was.

  He stood within an inch of her, his nostrils flaring as her scent rose in the air, teasing him with its exotic signature. This woman represented everything that he’d ever wanted and a future that he’d never gain.

  The fact that finally he didn’t give a damn was liberating.

  “The fallen is in there, and so is Cormac. Wait for the others.”

  Something inside him broke loose, bringing with it a sense of freedom he’d not felt in ages.

  Declan strode past Ana, exhilarated at the thought that his destiny was so close at hand. “Wait for the team, are you crazy?”

  Her hand grabbed his arm and yanked hard, stopping him instantly. The petite vampire packed three hundred years of power in her grip. She was strong. He stared down into her eyes. Normally, they were blue but at the moment were solid black balls of fury.

  She was pissed. He could see that.

  A wicked grin slid across his face, and suddenly he bent low. A gasp escaped from between her lips, and he felt her stiffen beneath his hand, as his mouth grazed her softness. It was nothing more than a whisper of touch. A good-bye.

  He lifted his head and removed her hand from his arm. “Crazy doesn’t come close to describing what I am.”

  Declan felt her gaze upon his back as he turned from her and strode purposefully toward the room. Energy sizzled against his flesh as his hand fell upon the door. Cormac’s ward was faltering.

  His hand tightened upon the handle, and Declan felt it give way as he pushed the door open.

  Jaxon felt the shift in the air at the same time as Jagger. He frowned and stared into the darkness. They were surrounded by creatures the likes of which he’d never seen before though he’d read reports about them. They were shades, beings that hovered between the living and the dead. Their existence was a permanent state of chaos . . . of pain.

  Shades were forever trapped in their own hellish form of purgatory.

  Silence filled his ears. It pressed down upon him, and he stilled. His senses sharpened, and his jaguar stirred, agitated, as the shades slowly evaporated into nothing.

  He glanced back at Libby, saw the confusion on her face, and winked at her. Her eyes widened, and a quick smile claimed her mouth. She was good. He wished that she was home with Logan, but knew Libby had the skills to take care of herself.

  A low-grade keening erupted from the shadows as if the walls themselves were alive. The energy thinned, and he felt it begin to pulsate as the darkness moaned, like the world was tipping, and the edges were ripping away.

  And, always, the sound of dripping water echoed in the distance.

  Cracker moved in close to his side. The hardened soldier spit on the ground, his movements steady and precise as he did so. He sniffled and smiled fiercely. “The shit’s going to hit the fan any—”

  The moaning wavered, amplified into layers, splitting the dark with a hard thrust as the shadows parted violently. Wind came at them from all directions, bringing with it bone-chilling cold.

  Jaxon heard Libby gasp as an impressive array of bodies stepped forward, solidifying within seconds. There had to be forty or more demons, and every single one of them began to make a strange series of clicking noises.

  Cracker gripped his Glock in his right hand and held his impressive machete in front of him with his left. Jaxon heard him murmur, “Time to rock and roll, boys and girls.”

  Jaxon knew they needed to act quickly. Within minutes, the demons would transform into their true selves.

  He gritted his teeth, and his eyes flattened into a cold black stare. “Stay safe and shoot to kill. Aim for their heads,” he yelled at his team. He turned quickly to Libby and nailed her with an intense look. “You stay close to me and don’t take any chances. We need to blast a hole through their formation.”

  She waved her dagger as she stood loose on the balls of her feet. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay close. Someone needs to make sure you don’t get your ass kicked.”

  Jaxon arched an eyebrow, his face dark, though his heart swelled at her words. The woman never failed to surprise him.

  The clacking reached a crescendo. Jaxon was about to give the order to move out and attack when, suddenly, it stopped. There was no sound other than the steady drip of water and a constant moaning that was slowly fading away.

  A roar s
liced through night, and his jaguar reacted painfully. At the same moment, one of the demons pitched forward, smoke rising from the back of its head as it fell into a lifeless heap at his feet.

  Dark liquid spewed everywhere, and a rancid odor erupted into the air.

  “Someone told me there was a party down here. Good to know they were right.” Ethan Crane stood several feet behind the line of demons, at his side was a large black jaguar. Nico.

  Julian was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Declan. Not good.

  Ethan snarled, his eyes glowing with a fierce light as he nodded to Jaxon. “Seems a little tame for my liking.”

  Jaxon looked to Cracker. “Now.” At the same time, Ethan double-fisted a pair of deadly Glocks and opened fire.

  All hell broke loose.

  Chapter 30

  Julian heard the sounds of battle well before they could see anything. He and Jaden slipped between the long rows of shelving as they rushed forward.

  The entire building seemed to be moving, as if the earth beneath the concrete was heaving, protesting the darkness that slithered along the surface. The constant cold was relentless, yet his flesh was heated, and mist rose from his skin.

  “Holy Christ,” Jaden whispered, and he paused, his eyes following her line of sight. Above them, a thin ribbon of energy pulsated in the air. Its strength fluctuated as it continued to weave amidst the darkness, shimmering one second, dulling to near invisible the next.

  “It’s Cormac,” he said.

  Jaden nodded in agreement. “I can smell him. His scent is evil.” Her teeth flashed in the gloom, and her breath was ragged. “We need to end this.” She turned to him. “It has to end tonight.”

  “Agreed.”

  She turned to leave, but Julian grabbed her to him, relishing the feel of her heat against his bare chest. There were no words for the intensity of what he was feeling.

  He stared down at her, took note of every nuance that made her features unique. Her soft lips parted as agitated breaths escaped . . . the curve of her cheek, the tilt of her nose. She’d brought him a certain peace, and he knew the image of her as she was right now, in his arms, was one he’d carry to the grave.