by Lana Kole
“Okay, I know this looks bad, but I’m actually really glad you’re here,” Death started in an overly calm tone.
“Why?” she asked, suspicion slicing through her at the smirk on his face, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears as panic welled. Had the cult somehow turned them? Brainwashed them into doing their bidding and luring them here so they could… do whatever?
She stepped back as he advanced, and a hurt look washed over his features, but faded away in favor of that cocky smile just as quickly. He traced his dark eyes over her frame, the new expression on his face unreadable, and he stepped forward anyway. This time she stood tall, not showing how intimidated she was by him. He’d seemed so familiar in the… the limbo she’d met him in just the day before. Had it all been an act?
Who was Death?
Foolishly, she’d thought she’d known all of them, from the time she’d spent acting as Pandora’s jar. Apparently, that had all been a lie.
But then Death stepped forward, her gaze rising higher as he moved closer, his lean frame much taller than hers. When he stopped, it was with maybe an inch to spare, and as he stared down at her, she watched as the facade fell away.
Then, Death winked. And snapped his fingers, the waiters or cultists or whatever the hell you wanted to call them dropping dead at his command. She startled at the abruptness, the ease with which it all happened. Betrayal and Hope both stood, and a relieved expression crossed Hope’s face.
“It’s about damned time you got here,” Death murmured, his gaze bouncing over her features as she did nothing to hide the surprise on her face.
Alone now, with all five of her demons, her shoulders slumped in relief. “What was that?” she demanded, gesturing to the lounge chairs and lavishness they’d been enjoying.
“That was their way of thanking us for doing as they requested.” Abruptly, he turned to Misery. “Give me that knife. Please,” he added at the end.
Huh. Even Death has manners.
Misery glared at him doubtfully, but after a moment he nodded and handed over the knife Daria had provided him with, hilt first.
Death took it and motioned to Betrayal. “Get that damned tracker out of my neck,” he growled, and a flash of anger sharpened his features before it melted away.
Grabbing the knife with a grunt, Betrayal spun Death around and flicked his hair out of the way. Death obliged, grabbing his long, dark waves up into a bunch on top of his head, baring his neck to Betrayal.
Daria winced for him when the tip of the knife dug into his skin, blood welling and trailing down his sand-colored flesh. Death, though, heaved a sigh of relief, even when Betrayal used the knife tip to dig around in the cut he’d made. His fingers also joined the game, until with a grunt of success, he held up a tiny, electronic chip.
“They put those inside you?” Daria asked.
“Didn’t want us to go far,” Death replied dryly, as he turned around and followed the same procedure with Betrayal, then Hope.
They each tossed the chips on the ground and stomped them out, relief making their shoulders lax.
“So, can we just leave now?” Daria questioned. It all seemed too easy, suspicion settling under her skin like an itch.
“Yep. I’m ready to get out of here.”
Daria glared at Betrayal’s words. “Seems like you all were doing just fine,” she grumbled with a pointed look at the lounge chairs. “I only had to be killed three times to get you guys out of here, but sure, enjoy yourselves for the duration of your stay.”
Betrayal scoffed as they began walking the way they came. “What, you would have preferred they torture us a little?”
“Well… when you put it like that, no. But you could have looked at least a little miserable when we arrived.”
With an eye roll and a shake of his head, he picked up the pace and left her side to walk alongside Death.
Truth and Misery took up the rear, which left her with Hope. He glanced at her and winced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If it’s any consolation.”
Arching an eyebrow at him, she hid the smile on her face. “Whatever for?”
Grimacing, he looked plain terrified at having to voice it aloud. “You know, for pushing you off the skywalk.”
“Oh, that whole killing me thing?”
“Yeah… that,” he rumbled awkwardly, as he looked anywhere but in her direction.
Not able to keep the ruse up any longer, she laughed and laid a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, I know why you did it.”
The tension left his shoulders and he turned a rocky smile on her, absolutely taking her breath away. His green eyes gleamed at her and she couldn’t help but return the smile he offered. “If I’d had any other choice, I wouldn’t have done it, just so you know.”
“I know.” And she did, she realized. She’d seen the remorse, the struggle, in his gaze and the tension in his figure, even through the darkness and flashes of strobe lights that night.
His actions had led her to Death, and ultimately to where they were now, finally rescuing them from the chaopadós.
Footsteps thundered nearby, and Daria startled with a glance behind them.
“We need to hurry,” Death announced, and she almost rolled her eyes at the obviousness of his statement. They broke into a run, Daria’s heart pounding with the adrenaline that struck her body like lightning.
The footsteps behind them grew louder, and out of nowhere, a panel in the wall opened to their right, followers pouring out into the hallway to block their path.
“Fuck,” Misery whispered behind her, with resignation in his voice. It tore at her heart and she immediately turned around and grabbed his hand. He started with the contact, his gaze falling to where they touched, as if in awe.
“I’ve got you,” she told him. And she did, no matter what.
His expression was tortured with the knowledge of how they’d have to get out of this.
“Misery, I’m gonna need you,” Death called.
It seemed even Death had his limits.
That scared Daria more than she’d like to admit.
“Fucking hell,” Betrayal growled, and a flash of silver caught her eye. When she was able to focus on it, she realized it was a coin. Just like the one she’d seen him flip in the back hallway of the club. He glanced down at it when it met his palm, and yelled in triumph. Curiosity pinged around Daria’s brain, and she made a mental note to ask him what the hell was up with his coin fascination later. Not that she thought she’d get an answer, but it never hurt to ask. Her gaze trailed over Betrayal, the tattoos lining his arms and the air of fuck off that surrounded him, and rethought her statement. Okay, it might hurt to ask.
Not as much as it hurt the first guy to stupidly brave the group of demons around her. Betrayal cut him down without an ounce of remorse, with the knife he’d pulled from gods knew where, and charged the crowd of followers before they could get a chance to ambush them.
“Protect her!” Death shouted, and Misery pushed her behind him, closing her in until the demons surrounded her like a shield.
His battle cry was what started it all, and Daria began to feel a little helpless as the cult rushed them. Chaopadós followers absolutely surrounded them, the hallway behind them crowded with men ready to fight. Soldiers, from the looks of it. These men didn’t hold guns, and just a scant flash of relief buzzed through her, before the tension returned.
“Do not fail your deity! Chaos will reward you!” one of the warriors yelled, others answering their war call with reverence in their voices.
The battle began, sending her demons into action, defending and attacking against the cultists that drew closest, with Death and Misery holding the majority of them at bay. Daria wasn’t prepared for this, and neither were her demons. Truth, Betrayal, and Hope could hold their own in hand-to-hand, and Misery and Death had their own talents. But in the moment, she worried about their limits as the crowd around them pushed forward, backing them into each other.
Misery unlea
shed everything he could, a cry of ecstasy rushing past his lips as bodies fell around them, collapsing in absolute agony. Death did much the same, ending lives left and right as he gritted his teeth, and Daria knew it wouldn’t be long before he was called to release them to the other side.
Betrayal shouted, and she jerked around to see an enemy’s knife glance off his chest, slicing his shirt and shedding an arc of blood that was glaringly obvious in the white hallway. He pushed his hand out, and as if he controlled the very air, a rush seemed to blow toward the enemy. Pieces of their hair flowed in the invisible breeze, before their eyes grew wide. Then, before Daria’s very eyes, they turned against their comrades and began battling.
Betrayal.
It seemed Death and Misery weren’t the only ones with talents that would come in handy. Daria could do nothing but try to stay out of the way, and she wished she hadn’t come, knowing she was nothing but a hindrance.
Misery worked in front of her, and Death behind her, lashing out with their deadly, dark powers, as Truth and Hope fought hand to hand with whatever follower made it past the wave of writhing, screaming bodies on the ground. Misery’s shoulders under his black shirt tightened, and she placed a hand on his back to remind him not to lose himself. The touch startled him, and he turned. At the look on his face, Daria dropped her hand in alarm. Her heart sank.
There was absolutely nothing left of the demon she knew in that gaze. Sheer glee lit up his features as he relished the pain around them.
Backing up, she didn’t have far to go before she bumped into Death, who jerked around at her touch. When he saw Misery, he cursed under his breath and pulled Daria tight to him.
Misery frowned for a moment at the fear in her gaze, but it bled out almost immediately, replaced with the utter pleasure he was gleaning from the ultimate release of misery.
Now, worry threatened to choke her for an entirely new reason. If they got out of this, how far gone was he? Could they even get him back? Had she just failed her bloodline in more ways than one by unleashing an out of control demon on humanity?
Fear and anxiety swallowed her whole, until she felt completely destroyed at the thought of losing Misery to his own namesake. This, the utter chaos around them, was what her bloodline must have feared. Pandora herself had set up her matriarchal descendants to carry the curse of Pandora’s secrets to keep this exact thing from happening.
Reeling with panic, Daria searched every corner of the hallway for an escape as Misery continued to stare at her, his gaze flicking back and forth between recognition and utter pleasure.
Pressure settled on her chest, heavy and hard. She tried to rub the tension out with her palm against her chest, but it didn’t work. If anything, it got worse—until she felt like she was suffocating. Out of the corner of her eye, a strange figure caught her attention. A man, one she hadn’t seen before, who wasn’t dressed like the other cultists crowding the hallway. A sharp, black suit covered his slim figure as he stared at them with something akin to fascination.
A grunt pulled her attention back to Misery, and she paled at the sight before her. A fucking sword speared him through from behind. His expression fell, glancing down to the blood coated metal in shock before he met her gaze again. In the moment, it didn’t occur to her what Truth had admitted to her once upon a time, that demons were immortal for all intents and purposes. Instead, all she saw was someone she’d grown close to pierced through with a fucking sword, the glint of blood under the florescent lights harsh.
She screamed—the only thing she knew to do in that moment, because she sure as fuck was helpless otherwise. The pressure in her chest shattered along with the glass around them, her scream echoing, and a wind whipped through the hallway, similar to the one Betrayal had used to turn the cult against one another.
If she’d thought chaos reigned beforehand—it truly poured down now. Everyone froze at the shattered glass and the sound of her screams, louder than even the moans and cries of agony of those writhing on the floor. The glass had exploded into shards, piercing necks and bodies of the cult around them, the occurrence oddly avoiding those she sought to protect—her demons.
A rumbling shook the building around them, and hands flew to the walls to steady themselves. Daria stood in the center of it all, unshaken by the energy that coursed through her—something unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It radiated outward, and the building shook more. At the very far end of the hallway, the walls began to crumble, crushing members of the cult who threatened them.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognized what was happening, and that someone was calling her name, but she couldn’t quite dig her way out of the fugue that she floated lazily in, the chaos around her nothing but natural.
That figure caught her eye again, the man in the suit, and this time his gaze was narrowed directly on her amongst the happenings around them.
Was he the cause of all this?
The building shook more, the crumbling wall crawling its way toward them as the living followers panicked and called out to the god they worshiped to save them. She could have laughed at their desperate faces, if the call in the back of her mind hadn’t been too loud to ignore. Tearing her gaze from the stranger, she gave in to the tug at her mind with everything she was, her head tilting back at the peace filling her.
Someone tugged her along, and she jerked to the present to find Misery’s worried face in front of hers. She almost laughed—Misery was worried? Misery didn’t worry.
His dark gaze traced her features before he nodded to someone behind her, and the world tilted upside down as she was turned and tossed over a shoulder.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, go!” the voice growled, as she was jostled along, the feet below her stepping and jumping over bodies on the ground. Peeking around the waist of whoever carried her, she caught sight of the remainder of the cult climbing into the elevator to escape. The doors slammed closed and the hum of the mechanics were barely heard over the chaos around them. Narrowing her eyes, she focused the energy seducing her on the elevator that’d just left.
They didn’t deserve to escape, the voice convinced her, and once again she gave in. Before her eyes, the doors that’d slid shut with the escapees inside exploded outward as the elevator promptly crashed back to the ground.
At her command.
“Fuck! Daria, what are you doing?” the voice carrying her yelled. They slid to a stop as smoke filled the corridor and she coughed momentarily between her laughter at the success.
Plaster rained down around them as the building continued to shake, the walls caving in and the lights blinking as the power of the building threatened to fail.
It was beautiful.
As they turned down another hallway, that fucking guy in a suit appeared before them, snapping his fingers, and the world turned dark for a moment.
When she opened her eyes again, it took her a second to realize the chaos had ended. It was quiet. Too quiet.
Lifting her head, she assessed their surroundings, the change in scenery enough to startle her into sobriety, the release fading away as she looked around.
In an instant, they were no longer in the collapsing building, but instead appeared in… well, what looked like some kind of paradise. The body underneath her froze before setting her down. When she glanced up to see who’d carried her, she found Death.
He frowned at her, displeasure evident in his gaze, and her grin wilted under his disappointment.
Why am I grinning?
A voice, this one unfamiliar, boomed through the room.
“Well, this has certainly been an interesting turn of events.”
As a group, they turned to find the man in a suit, this time with a Bengal cat lounging in his arms. The slim, pinstripe suit framed his figure perfectly. His short, dark hair was tousled to the side as if he’d just woken up, dark hazel eyes trained and studying her with the same type of intensity. A light brown scruff covered his cheeks, lips pursed as he stared.
&
nbsp; “Don’t recognize me, then?” he asked, his voice light and casual, even though this situation was anything but.
Daria reeled from the change of scenery, wondering what kind of mind trick he was playing, as she shook her head.
“Well, that’s not surprising, since I don’t recognize you either.”
“Then what do you want?” she countered, and the demons beside her tensed.
He reached down to pet the cat in his arms, tilting his head at her in question.
“Dunno. Figured I might like to introduce myself to my daughter,” he answered simply.
DARIA
It seemed too calm in the room around her. She’d been right to describe it as paradise. Similar to the room she’d found her demons in, there was a waterfall in the back corner, more of that sunlight that seemed to glow from within the room itself, and a different kind of comfort in each corner. Lounge chairs and loveseats scattered around an unbelievably large fireplace in one area, the waterfall in another, and then a small theater with a retractable wall for privacy. It was uncomfortably warm in the room, causing a cold sweat to break over her skin.
Or maybe it was just nerves. Daria focused on all of these things to ignore the words the man across from them had spoken.
Let’s get real. He zapped us to this new location with a snap of his fingers. He’s not a man.
So what was he?
Her father, apparently.
Finally, her gaze landed back on the figure across from them, head tilted to the side as he studied her. She realized her head was tilted to the side in a mirrored position, and snapped it back upright with a grimace.
She could… kind of see it. They both had dark hair, but he had hazel eyes whereas she had blue.
“Why do you think I’m your daughter?” she asked, drawing strength from the five figures on either side of her.
“Only a daughter of mine could cause the kind of chaos we saw back there.” A proud smile curled his lips up as he stared at her. “And you even come with your own harem of chaos demons.”
