The Darkest King

by Gena Showalter

  “Allow me to prove it. I’ll guard the book on your behalf. My armies are double the size of yours, my magic’s stronger. I’ll ensure the code cannot be used against you.”

  Once again, unease pricked his nape. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll keep it. I could use a laugh.” Magic could do many amazing, impossible things, but crafting true love wasn’t one of them. And there was no way he would lose his hands by sunrise. Someone would have the skill to sneak up on him and knock him out. Good luck.

  Lucifer portaled to his own Hell territory, while William portaled to his principality. He holed up in his bedroom and set traps for anyone foolish enough to enter.

  As one hour bled into another, he fought to remain awake. Eventually he drifted off...

  He awoke to indescribably pain and blood, so much blood. It wet his sheets, his body—and still spurted from his wrists.

  His hands were missing, his traps undisturbed.

  Abject fear joined the deluge of agony. The second part of Lilith’s curse had come true. Why wouldn’t the first?

  Shit. Shit! What was he going to do?

  1

  “Forget a cloak of invisibility. I prefer to wear a cloak of hot as hell-ness.”

  —William the Ever Randy

  Third level of the heavens

  The Downfall, a nightclub for immortals

  Present day

  William stalked through the overcrowded nightclub, shoving an assortment of vampires, shifters and Fae out of his path. Bodies slammed together, protests rising then dying as the patrons glimpsed his expression—homicidal rage.

  “Make a move against me,” he grated. “Dare you.”

  The crowd thinned in seconds, ninety percent of the immortals racing away, their footsteps shaking the building.

  Over the centuries, both enemies and friends had likened William to a grenade without a pin. He could blow at any moment and torch the entire world.

  Two females remained at the bar, peering at him with interest. “I heard he moved back to Hell to war with Lucifer,” one whispered to the other, his sensitive ears picking up every word.

  “Poor Lucifer,” the other said, sounding gleeful rather than pitying. “I heard the Ever Randy is even more powerful in Hell.”

  Well. The beauties weren’t wrong. William did war with Lucifer, just as Lilith predicted, and he did grow more powerful in Hell, his supernatural abilities turning sinister.

  The first female smiled and blew him a kiss before telling the other, “I wonder what he’s doing here.”

  “Ask him,” the other suggested. “Go on, Helen. Do it!”

  “No way, Wendy. You heard his voice, right? He’s like a siren, able to seduce with a single word. Unfortunately for him, I’ve decided to save myself for Strider Lord. He’ll get tired of Kaia any day. Maybe. Probably.”

  William heaved a sigh. His presence here served one purpose: obtaining freedom from Lilith’s curse. Finally!

  Yesterday, a powerful seer delivered astounding news. Soon, he would find the answer to his every problem: the only person in existence with the necessary skills to decipher his magic codebook, breaking Lilith’s curse at long last. He or she had signed up to attend a conference for cryptanalysts. Location: Manhattan.

  Was the codebreaker human or immortal? Young or old? Fragile or strong?

  Doesn’t matter. I will find who I’m looking for or die trying.

  A female vampire stepped inside his path. A beautiful brunette in a crop top and micro-miniskirt, the club’s uniform. She smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. “You’re driving away our customers and therefore our tips.” All sensual grace and coy charm, she traced a fingertip between his pectorals. “I’m real close to having the bouncers throw you out.”

  They could try. Anyone foolish enough to put hands on him died horribly, always. A necessity. If you failed to punish those who harmed you, others would think they could harm you, too.

  He cast his gaze throughout the club, easily picking out the bouncers: a mix of Berserkers and Phoenix warriors. He heaved another sigh. As much as he’d enjoy making them beg for mercy he didn’t have, he had precious little time.

  “I’ll pay you double what you make in a week,” he told her, his wealth incalculable. “Just get rid of the stragglers.”

  “And I’m getting rid of the stragglers,” she sang, pumping her fist toward the ceiling. “Everyone out. Now! Go, go, go, before I start cutting off appendages.” She unveiled a wicked smile. “Or maybe I’ll tell Bjorn you guys made me cry.”

  In the mad dash to leave, chairs were overturned. Ah, retreat. Good call. Bjorn the Last True Dread was one of three owners of the Downfall, half Sent One—or winged demon assassin with more firepower than angels—and half Dread. One of the most violent species ever to walk the Earth. He possessed a temper as dark and legendary as William’s own, but only erupted when “the weaker sex” cried.

  Hi. The 1950s called, and they’d like their misogyny back. Women, the weaker sex? William snorted. Three females had impacted his past and present and one would affect his future in ways no male ever had. One had told him that he never should have been birthed, and he’d carried the stigma of it ever since. Another had cursed him, affecting every relationship he’d ever had. A third had offered hope in a hopeless situation, something even Hades, his idol, hadn’t done. The last would try to kill him if ever he fell in love with her.

  William inhaled a deep breath, shook his head to dislodge the hated musings and motored on. Different scents layered the air: candle wax, hormones, clashing perfumes and sweat. The moment he spotted the final patron—the reason for his visit—boiling rage became a simmer of annoyance.

  Keeleycael, aka the Red Queen, was powerful beyond imagining, and annoying as hell. As old as time, and as far into the future as she could see, memories tended to tangle up in her mind. Sometimes she struggled to distinguish present, past and future. More often, she lacked focus, unable to complete a task as simple as dressing. Like today. Her clothes were inside out and backward, a sock clinging to her jeans. Around her neck, a necklace made of candy.

  “William! Willy! Will!” she called, waving. A vision of loveliness with pale pink hair, golden skin and green eyes, she occupied a table in back. “I know I saw you yesterday, but I’ve missed you terribly. Or maybe I saw you ten...twenty years ago? Or maybe I’m thinking of fifteen years from now?”

  Wonderful. The crazy had already started. He quickened his pace. Once upon a time, this mad hatter had been Hades’s fiancée and William’s almost stepmother. Though the couple had split, he’d never stopped caring about her. Recently, she’d ended up wedding a demon-possessed male named Torin, one of William’s closest friends.

  As soon as he reached her, he kicked out a chair and plopped down. “Hello, Keeley.”

  She smiled a sweet smile in welcome, rousing a wave of affection inside him. “So nice of you to join me for this meeting we never planned.”

  Careful. No conversation had ever been so important to him. He needed her lucid; the wrong question might push her over the edge. “Do you know the name of my decoder?”

  “Why? Because everything Lilith promised you has come true? An ongoing war with Lucifer—check. A miserable past and present, devoid of genuine, romantic companionship—check. A bleak future—checkmate.”

  “Yes,” he said, his teeth gritted. With the curse hanging over his head, he refused to spend more than a night or two with a woman, something he’d like to change.

  Not because he hoped to settle down. He didn’t. After everything he’d suffered, he deserved a happily-ever-after with as many women as he desired.

  Had his views on monogamy changed? Yes. For others. His friends had mates, and they were perfect examples of love and loyalty. But, William still preferred variety. A single partner would never fully meet his needs.

  To him, women wer
e like spices. Some days you wanted sweet, some days you wanted spicy. Or salty. No reason to stick with the same flavor.

  “Well,” he prompted. “Do you know the name or not?”

  “I do,” she exclaimed. “Duh. Why else would I invite you to this name-and-gender-reveal party?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Surprise,” she said, spreading her arms wide. “The codebreaker is a girl...and your lifemate.”

  What? Shock and horror inundated him, a thousand problems forming at once, with only one solution.

  “I know you assumed you’d found your mate not too long ago,” she continued, “but you were wrong.”

  His chest tightened, squeezing his lungs. He’d met a (once) human female named Gillian Shaw, who’d suffered a childhood more tragic than his own. Not wanting to activate the curse, he’d ruthlessly combated any softer emotions for her, constantly playing the “what if” game with himself.

  What if he committed to her, and Gillian did, in fact, try to kill him?

  What if he harmed her irrevocably while guarding himself against her attack?

  What if he inadvertently killed her? Could he ever forgive himself?

  In the end, she’d fallen for a beastly POS who—William shuddered—needed her. In other words, a fool! Needing another only ever ended in heartbreak.

  “I will not give my future murderer access to the object of my salvation,” he bit out. “I would rather kill her straightaway and void the curse before it ever activates.” But...could he truly slay his one and only lifemate, ending her life simply because she’d one day try to slay him?

  Keeley gaped at him. “You would give up your one chance at eternal contentment?”

  “Yes,” he hissed, the muscles in his shoulders knotting. How could he miss what he’d never had?

  She flicked her tongue over an incisor. “What if you cannot defeat Lucifer without her?”

  He went still. “Can I not?”

  She ignored his question, saying, “Do you remember when I told you that Scarlet and Gideon’s baby would aid you in the breaking of your curse?”

  “I do,” he replied, cautious. Scarlet and Gideon were part of a select group of friends. Demon-possessed men and women and their assortment of mates known as the Lords of the Underworld. The same group as Torin and Keeley. “As much as I love them, I doubt their baby will have the power to help a prince of the underworld.”

  “Well, you’re right. I misspoke. Their baby won’t aid you at all. Their baby will aid your daughters. Daughters you won’t have without your lifemate.”

  What! Daughters, plural? Girls who would grow into beautiful women and fall in love with shit-ass males he’d have to murder? No! “Another reason to kill the codebreaker. I won’t be having any more children.”

  “Oh, you’ll be having kids, all right. Enough to create a base...foot...sports team.” As if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb, she leaned closer and said, “There’s no way you’ll fall in love with your lifemate in two weeks, right? So, you’ll let her live and work on the code for fourteen days. Vow it, or I’ll keep the list of names to myself.”

  “Very well.” No need to ponder it. When you lived forever, two weeks was nothing. But what had she meant, list of names? There should be only one. “If she behaves, I vow I will not harm her for fourteen days.” Never would he make a vow without a caveat.

  “Excellent! Now, before I reveal the nineteen names on my list—”

  “Nineteen?” he roared.

  “—you’re going to tell me why you grow more powerful in Hell. And don’t say no. In our world, you have to give to get.”

  So she’d heard the girls at the bar, too. He sighed. “I don’t know the reason.” Nor did he know why it mattered. “I only know I produce wings of smoke up here. Down there, that smoke is laced with sopor, a pain toxin. Here, I grow claws. There, those claws leak poena, a death venom. Here, I have no fangs. There, I can grow sabers, if I wish.”

  Canting her head to the side, she asked, “Is that why you moved to the mortal realm so soon after your dad and I called it quits?”

  He gave a clipped nod. Had he stayed, he feared he would have become as vile as Lucifer.

  “How interesting.” Keeley stroked her chin all villain-like, the wheels in her brain obviously spinning. “Definitely take your lifemate slash codebreaker to Hell.” Finally, she extended an arm, revealing an array of ink smudges that began at the inside of her elbow and ended at her palm. “Ta-da! The names, as promised.”

  With only a glance, he memorized every word. Then he arched a brow. “There’s a codebreaker named spaghetti and meatless balls?”

  “Oh, my bad.” She licked her thumb and rubbed the culinary disaster off her arm. “That was my dinner.”

  “Your name is also on the list.”

  Her eyes hooded. A dreamy smile curled her mouth as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “I was Torin’s dinner.”

  May l never be as whipped as my friends. “Which name belongs to my codebreaker?”

  The waitress appeared, handed a bottle of champagne to Keeley and muttered, “On the house. Don’t kill me!” then raced away.

  As the Red Queen tasted the beverage—straight from the bottle—he stroked the dagger sheathed at his waist, waiting.

  “Keeley,” he prompted. “I asked you a question.”

  “Oh, yes. I remember. You wanted to know where you could find a crown of Hell.”

  Again, he went still. Long ago, eleven crowns were made by the Most High, the leader of the Sent Ones. Own a single crown, and you would transform into a powerful king, whoever—or whatever—you were. Lose the crown, and you would lose everything.

  After failing to usurp the Most High, young Lucifer managed to steal ten of those crowns, or so the story went, and presented them to Hades, who selected others to rule at his side, saving the tenth crown for Lucifer. Only, Hades and the other kings stole it back after Lucifer’s coronation.

  Now, Hades claimed the tenth crown was lost. William planned to find it, becoming the tenth Hell king, undermining and humiliating his ex-brother.

  Fighting to maintain his composure while his nerve endings buzzed, he grated, “Do you know where the tenth Hell crown is?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  I won’t kill her. I won’t. “Do you remember the name of my mate, then?”

  “No, but I remember what she looks like.” Her sweet, sweet smile made another appearance. “You’re getting your most fevered dream...and your worst nightmare. Enjoy! And good luck.”

  2

  “You want a piece of me? Your girlfriend certainly does.”

  Sipping sugar water from a wineglass all classy-like, Sunday “Sunny” Lane meandered through a shadowy hotel bar teeming with youngish and oldish codebreakers, hackers and hobbyists. Most were humans who’d flown into New York City early that morning to network and party before the world’s premiere cryptanalyst conference kicked off tomorrow. Her longtime friend...er, acquaintance Sable remained at her side. The six-foot black beauty came from the same realm and ancient village as Sunny.

  They’d come to set honeytraps for any immortals who hunted their kind.

  A waiter approached with a bottle of white. “May I refill your drink, ma’am?”

  Ma’am? The worst insult known to womankind.

  Able to read auras, she easily distinguished immortals from humans. The waiter was human. “No, thanks,” she said. “As a self-appointed superhero and proud vigilante, I prefer to stay sober and scumbag-aware.” Asterhole.

  Sunny was born with an innate magic that prevented her from cursing, changing obscenities into flowers. Daisy replaced damn. Argh! D-a-m-n. Hellebore replaced h-e-l-l. Sage replaced s-h-i-t. Bluebell replaced b-a-s-t-a-r-d. and b-i-t-c-h. Aster replaced a-s-s, and freesia replaced f-u-c-k.

 
The waiter offered her an unsure smile before rushing off.

  “Here’s hoping the duality serves us well tonight.” Sable clinked her glass of sugar water against Sunny’s.

  Oh, yes. The duality. Half their nature longed to hunt and kill baddies, whether immortal or human. That part of her—Horror Show Sunny—worked as an assassin. A girl needed a purpose, right? The other half demanded they spread love, joy and peace. She’d dubbed that part Roses and Rainbows Sunny, and worked as a decoder.

  The two sides were forever locked in a brutal tug-of-war.

  “I posted online to let the world know I’d be here,” Sunny said, fingering the medallion that hung at her neck. Her most prized possession, capable of feats few could imagine.

  As an extremely rare “mythical” creature, they had to remain armed at all times. Poachers hunted them for sport, and collectors hunted them for pleasure. Little wonder Sunny trusted no one, not even Sable, and never stayed in one location more than a couple weeks. She constantly looked over her shoulder and rarely slept.

  “If anyone attacks,” Sable began.

  “They die screaming.”

  Crackling with excitement, Sable gulped back the rest of her water and set her glass aside. “Once we’ve eliminated the poachers and collectors, we won’t have to worry about being ambushed every second of every day. We can turn our sights to the underworld royals.”

  “All nine kings, and every last prince of darkness.” Two princes of darkness in particular topped her list. Lucifer the Destroyer, and William the Ever Randy. Even their names filled her with blistering rage. The terrible things Lucifer had done to her people...things he’d done while shouting, “For William!”

  The two might be at war now, but they’d been inseparable back then.

  Focus up. You’re here for a purpose, remember? Right. Sunny scanned the sea of faces. Some attendees ambled from group to group. Some remained in place, talking, laughing and generally clogging the pathways. Others stayed at their tables, nursing drinks. Many were relaxed and at ease. Oh, to be so uninvolved, unconcerned and untouched by the world’s evil, as oblivious to the surrounding danger as everyone else. Sunny couldn’t recall a time she’d ever felt safe.