The Black Prince (Shadow Unit Book 5)

by Tigris Eden

  Suvack: The Cup

  Tala: Delicacy eaten in Fion, an animal that tastes like a combination of chicken, steak, and duck

  Tasting: A bacchanalia of sorts for Ferals to come together to find their mates.

  The Agency: A secret organization that keeps tabs on The Shadow Unit.

  T.I.M.: The Immortal Movement

  VAB: Vampire Blood AB, a drug sold to humans and other immortals looking for a high. It’s illegal to sell and punishable by death in some Houses.

  Vampiri: Royal members of one of the three Vampire houses infected with a demon strain of blood. They have fangs, and can drink from any blood source without an adverse reaction.

  Walker: A race of warriors that can walk among the living or the dead. They have the ability to temporarily walk into another body or life-form in order to heal, take away pain, or to hide. A Walker must return to its body within 24 hours or risk dying. Only the Primori Walker can be without his body for days at a time.

  Warrior Guard: Bodyguards to the Elder Angels

  I influence the bad, I push the good-hearted over the edge. ~ Enri, the Black Prince.

  Prologue

  Un-definable—and un-observable—the universe did not exist. It didn’t include time or space. To even think one could imagine a parsec—3.26 light years—let alone twenty-eight million of them was incomprehensible. From nothing to something, the universe appeared. Many have tried to substantiate the known universe. Put a name to its beginning. Assumption after assumption with many hypotheses, tales, and even reenactments in closed, confined spaces of the cosmos. In truth, it’s defining moment started with one being and a stream of consciousness.

  It was nothing, and then suddenly it was something.

  A thought.

  An idea.

  A theory.

  And in theory, there were multiple verses and a multitude of words to describe its vastness. But even before there was a verse or a vast amount of …anything, there were no words or any true form of communication.

  Only matter and energy.

  It moved. It vibrated. A wave of displacement that when produced, created an awakening through its medium with the help of space. Sound came first. It’s origin of movement only known to a few. But it was because of Sound there was a presence, which meant something occurred in order for it to exist.

  And it existed in the Darkness.

  An empty void in space that collected and assembled Sound. But Darkness became lonely, and out of its loneliness, Light was born. An illumination occurred, bringing forth a phenomenon. Sound called it Immaru. But inside Immaru was a radiance— and it endured the Darkness— who only communicated through Sound. The communication brought forth whistles and howls, which became grunts and growls. And from it, Sound sang out a name.

  Erebos.

  Darkness wasn’t aware he had a name, but he did. Unending in its nature, the name itself was an abstraction. The voice he heard in the vast emptiness of his existence called him Erebos. The name at first was raw and needed shape. So, Erebos took form. Not in the shape of a man, but in the shape of what he thought himself to be, for Darkness did, in fact, think.

  He stretched himself wide, blanketing the void, filling the space until he could no longer expand. The expansion itself was exhausted. Infinite and lasting. Erebos existed for a time with just Sound and Light. All too soon, even they were not enough to quell his loneliness.

  It wasn’t until Sound suggested Darkness touch Light that a genesis occurred. Just friction at first. Slow. Steady. Back and forth until a spark ignited. And from that spark, Chaos was born. It burned and became a combination of Darkness and Light—Erebos and Immaru—churning until the embers of its fire turned to cosmic dust, giving way to a sentient being much like Darkness, Light, and Sound. Chaos introduced new elements, formed a kind of magnetic friction where matter made of atoms and molecules thought for itself. No explosion, or even a loud clang, just a beginning.

  It started off small and expanded until it went from cold to hot, back to cool—only to start the process over again— repeating until Chaos created life. The first signs were thought to be a man, but Chaos’s mind hadn’t quite captured what it was to be mortal. He spun the stars, billions of stunning bright conceptions that became clusters and nebulae before evolving into vast universes who gave birth to galaxies and dwarf galaxies. And within those galaxies existed the planets and their satellites. From there, a world was born and the first flickers of life began—each occurrence taking consciousness, purpose, and form. It was a singular moment that jumpstarted the known Universe into action.

  Not sure how to contain this new form of creation, Darkness watched and waited. The first world emerged on the far edges of the known universe— an icy, barren land. Life there was brutal and unkempt. Chaos chose to father many more worlds, testing his boundaries and pushing himself harder and harder. It made Darkness angry. He wanted ownership of what his offspring had created.

  Harsh words were exchanged, and to keep the peace, Sound silenced them both for a time. But as time passed, Chaos created in secret. He felt spurned and unappreciated as Erebos and Immaru basked in the ambiance of his older ideas. But within Chaos’s concept, there was a recipe he’d perfected, an enhancement of awareness, until a different kind of being was born.

  The existence of man.

  The emergence of others more than man.

  Chaos had long since felt he should be the rightful heir. Left to his own devices, he, too, evolved. Into something more, something less, and finally, into something he himself no longer recognized. As he took shape into the perfect form—an image of one of his own—he was cast out of his place next to Darkness and Light—his origins erased and handed over to one of his own creations.

  Hades, the would-be jailer of Tartaros and keeper of the Underworld took in Chaos. Led to believe he was spawned from Hade's own seed, Chaos—for a time—tried to please those around him. Seeking favor in his father’s eyes, never understanding, his memory kept from him along with his capabilities.

  Chaos was never to know his true nature. He was the spark, the creator. The offspring of Darkness and Light, and true heir to the Throne of Creation.

  Erebos claimed the throne for himself, and as he took over what Chaos created, he mutated the verses and produced his own kind of existence. Separating man from the origins of creation, Erebos constructed a veil. He gave birth to the Dawn, who was forever known as Aurora, and her sibling Dusk, known as Astraeus, and the two of them combined became the Night.

  They’d wanted him dead. But as with all things in their world, one thing was constant. Every action constituted a reaction. Kill the spark, and they’d kill his creations, casting them back into nothingness.

  It would be eons, maybe more, before the memories of his true nature surfaced. But for now, this new being, this new kind of Chaos, enjoyed moving others to do as he willed. Like pieces on a chessboard, they played his game. To some, he was simply known as the bastard son of Hades. To others, he was the dark whisper in the night, the devil on your shoulder, and the conscience that encouraged rage or incited fear. He referred to himself, as Enri—the Black Prince.

  Chapter 1

  He should have told them all the truth. Warned Dietrich and the others that all was not what it seemed. There were those who could change the course of history. Words could be spoken and unspoken, casting things into a spiral of confusion. It was as simple as that. But the conversation Gregor overheard between the two males was anything but the truth.

  “I have a question to ask you.”

  “Well, Primori, I have a question for you.”

  “What is it?”

  "Who do you think is the devil on your shoulder? It isn't my dear old dad, Hades, or that pussy Lucifer. He’s too busy looking for a way back into the pearly gates—something that’s different for each of you by the way. There’s an order to life and death. There’s a system. You can’t break one rule and bypass another. It’s not done. Just not done!
” The Fallen appeared to be out of breath, but he wasn’t finished. He had more to say. “It’s not any of the other pawns I've moved around over the centuries either. It's me. I influence the bad, I push the good-hearted over the edge. And why do you think that is?"

  "Man, I don't give a fuck who you are or what you're capable of. What I care about is the endgame. You have information we need. That's why I'm here, and that's what you're going to give me. You're testing my patience, Enri."

  "Testing you? You think this is testing you? I haven't even begun to fuck with your head. But for argument’s sake, I'll drop you a lifeline."

  Gregor couldn’t be sure what Enri showed Dietrich, but what he knew was that it pissed him off.

  "I don't need to see this shit."

  "Oh, but you do. She's not finished yet, that's just a taste of what's to come. How about we take a look at what's happening right now? While you're standing here trying to get information from me, Stegis and Bren are doing a bang-up job of getting all up in sweet little Jorunn."

  “I said I don’t need to see this shit,” Dietrich snarled.

  “Oh, come on. You’re not even a little bit curious whether she can take more than one cock? I mean, she’s already had yours, and apparently, you can’t give her what she wants. What if it was three of us? One in each hole. Then she’d really be doing it well.”

  There was the sound of a fist hitting flesh, and Gregor heard bones crack. The laughter, he knew, came from Enri.

  “Who needs to drink the blood?” Dietrich demanded.

  And there was their issue. Who indeed was to drink Jorunn’s life-force? The Danea Trinity consisted of the cup, the blood, and the vessel that would drink from the cup. Alistair told Draven that much. But no one had told Alistair the rest. It was forbidden.

  The sound of fluid hitting the floor was evident. But Gregor knew it to be blood. It was thicker, and there may have even been a tooth or two in there as something tapped the floor.

  “You’re going to pay for that, asshole,”

  There was more hitting, then Gregor stepped in.

  “That’s enough.”

  “So now you give a fuck about what happens to me? Eh, dog?”

  Enri glared at Gregor. Smug bastard.

  Gregor, a hellhound bitten by Cerberus, was formidable, but still no match for Enri. His current situation, although temporary, still put him at a disadvantage.

  “You should not have provoked Dietrich.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You should not provoke me,” Gregor warned.

  Enri laughed.

  What everyone should be worried about was provoking him. He could be hurt. But he couldn’t be killed. It’s why they’d chosen the chains dipped in stardust. They’d learn soon enough they couldn’t keep a determined bastard down. He was firstborn. The rightful heir to the coveted Black Throne. All of them would pay. He wouldn’t grant them any type of leniency. Not now, or ever. The moment he got free from the crypt, shit would go down. He’d put in a day’s work of staining the walls and ground crimson with their blood.

  “Why don’t you save yourself the headache and just let me go? I’ll walk out of here and leave you all to your own miserable excuse of an existence.” Liar, liar.

  Right after he slaughtered them all.

  “You know I can’t do that. You’ve caused enough trouble, as it is. You are setting things into motion which cannot be undone. Be still, Enri. Lay down your fight.”

  This time, he let out a gut-clenching laugh. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but laugh he did.

  “Lay down my fight? Be still? No one talks like that, Gregor. Not in this century. Have you not been outside these walls? Do you not have any social skills?”

  “I don’t need to leave these walls. My duty is here. I will remain here.”

  “Spare me the melodramatic speech.”

  Enri had to admit bantering back and forth with Gregor did provide some entertainment.

  “Are you hungry?” Gregor asked instead of responding.

  “Sure. I could eat. Bring me some fresh pussy—or better yet, bring me a virgin. Are you still sacrificing them?” He snickered.

  “You disgust me.”

  “Right back at you, bro.”

  Gregor turned to leave, and Enri threw out his last parting remark as his way of communicating just how happy he was to be locked in a crypt.

  “Gregor, I hope you enjoy the afterlife. Because, for you, that’s all you have to look forward to.”

  Fucking bastards. He’d give the guy credit, though. He could pull off nonchalance with the best of them. Gregor wasn’t easily upset.

  The air was stale. Rank. The smell of death strong among the old bones resting silent beneath Enri’s feet. Dietrich was long gone and with the answer to his question. Although it had been an easy one, it wasn’t one he’d had to answer. But comply, he had.

  He’d leave this place and continue the path he’d chosen for himself. He’d had worse done to him at the hands of his beloved father. This, well…it was a walk in the motherfucking park. Complete with sunshine and pinwheels. Fuck ’em all. They thought holding him with stardust-dipped chains would do the trick. It wouldn’t. Did it sting? Fuck yeah, it did. But it only lasted for a time. Enri assumed it was why Gregor continued to visit him, and not his half-brother, Zagreus. Z didn’t have a fucked up bone in his body. He was all about forgiveness and peace.

  Stupid fuck.

  Like his brother, he’d once tried to be a do-gooder. Attempting to right the wrongs in the world and punish the unjust. Half of what he knew to be true wasn’t true. Love did not prevail, nor did it conquer fucking all. Whoever came up with that cheesy-ass line anyway? And why did mortals believe the hype? Gullible pawns, that’s what they were. Enri moved them as he wanted. Mortal, immortal—it didn’t matter. Time would be up soon. Very soon. Things were coming to a complete halt, and whether people were ready for the crescendo at the end or not wasn’t his goddamn problem.

  The gusts were picking up again, and Enri knew wind didn’t exist beneath the crypt. Someone was spying on him. Getting their kicks out of his current situation.

  “At least show yourself,” Enri said into the stale darkness.

  No one responded.

  But he felt the breeze again. This time, like a caress against his cheek. Then his arms and chest.

  “Stop fucking around.”

  He knew he wasn’t hearing things because he heard everything. The sludge on the walls as it made its way down the stone. The waves pounding against the cliff outside the very cell that kept him prisoner. Even the microorganisms that crackled and gnawed at the algae gathered in the crevices of the brick walls. If he wanted, he could persuade them to do his bidding. But by the time they delivered him his freedom, he’d have aged at least another fifty years— and his plans needed to be completed in less time than that. He’d procrastinated long enough.

  Again, the sound of wind rushed by him—this time funneling through the crypt in a whisper that almost sounded like his name. Z appeared in front of him, a plate of food in hand. His brother tossed it down as if he could easily eat. Didn’t matter. The bread was days old, and he was sure maggots crawled on the meat.

  “So, you do care?” Enri’s voice dripped with pure hate. Such a disgrace.

  Zagreus’s hand came down hard, jerking Enri’s head to the side.

  “You stupid fool!” his half-brother hissed. “You couldn’t stay away, could you? Had to go and mess things up. I don’t know why Father even took you in. Mother was against it.”

  Of course, Persephone was against it. Enri was a constant reminder of his father’s affair, who Hades liked to joke was Ananke, goddess of fate. Enri swallowed the blood filling his mouth. No use wasting good food. The shit they were trying to hand-feed him sucked balls.

  “I’m sorry your mother had to be reminded of our father’s philandering. But come on. Really, Brother? Did you think dad would seriously keep it in his pants? I mean, I have yet
to meet my mother, but if she looks anything like me, well…she’s fuckable.”

  Another blow.

  This time to his solar plexus.

  “You really are an arrogant and ignorant bastard.”

  “I aim to please.”

  The robes his brother wore covered him from head to toe, his hands the only things visible. Zagreus’s face, a canvas of protection spells and incantations inked into his skin with iron and sulfur, lacked any kindness.

  “You don’t wish to please anyone but yourself. But what if I told you, you’re going to mess things up for everyone? Not just Father, but everything—this entire way of life?”

  Enri thought for a moment. Or at least he pretended to. What did he care if he upset everyone’s way of life? They were all instruments to him, anyway. Toys. Something for him to play with. He didn’t respond to his brother’s ranting because really…was he even expected to? Half the time, most people wanted to hear themselves talk. He listened. He acted. It was how he’d gotten as far as he had in the life he led now. He’d led several, in fact. More than most immortals. And in the back of his mind, buried deep in the layers of his memory, there was a door he didn’t walk through. Not for lack of trying—but because the door remained sealed to him. A place he couldn’t access, a place buried so deep, should he ever untether its chains and free what lay behind its confines, true terror would reign.

  “I’ve grown quite bored of the sound of your voice. Go away now. Leave me to my silence.”

  Zagreus looked his way and sneered. “If I could kill you myself, I would.”

  Enri lifted his head, and with his good eye, he winked. “Many have tried, all have failed. Good luck, little brother.”

  Gregor returned this time, and Enri watched as the two monks exchanged looks.