The Black Prince (Shadow Unit Book 5)

by Tigris Eden

  He’d purposely made sure they ended up on the side of the globe where it was still dark. He didn’t want her to get any ideas in her head about daylight. He knew she missed it, could tell by the way she’d stare up into the night sky. A night sky he’d put there so she wouldn’t realize where they truly were. She wouldn’t like knowing they dwelled in Hades’ realm. Brimstone and fire, and a host of demons to scare anyone mortal or immortal to death. You shouldn’t care what she thinks. He didn’t, but keeping her at least a little placated would work to his advantage.

  Both of them looking over the texts would be much faster than if he did it alone. She was a fast learner and had picked up the reading quickly. He had all the time in the world, but really, who wanted to waste time? He was good at doling out punishments and seeking retribution from those who’d angered him or crossed his path. But with patience came understanding. And understanding one’s enemy ensured victory.

  Erebos was going down.

  Not just because he’d given him the equivalent of a five-point-finger-palm-exploding-heart technique with an extra touch of cracking him wide open. No, that wasn’t it at all. It was because the fucker had told him he couldn’t have the Throne of Creation. Erebos didn’t realize the gauntlet he’d thrown down. Enri could have whatever the fuck he wanted because he was that good. Didn’t matter if the throne was his or not, but now that he knew such a throne existed… Sure. Why the hell not? He’d take it, and Erebos’s life.

  He was the game changer.

  He was the reason people did fucked-up shit.

  Pawns.

  All of them.

  He was the dark persuasion, the controller of all things ugly and murky. It was better to be friends with the devil on your shoulder than the devil in your face. There were a lot of strings he pulled to get what he wanted, and he did it all without owing anyone a favor.

  If Erebos wanted to step up and throw in his purse, it was up to Enri to take him for everything he had, and that included the Throne of Creation.

  The line to get into the theater wound its way around half the block.

  “I don’t have time for this shit.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “The line is too long.”

  “We can wait, can’t we?”

  As if. He didn’t wait for anyone. And to prove his point, he grabbed Yewa’s hand and marched them to the front of the line.

  “Hey, buddy, back of the line,” someone in the crowd complained.

  “They seem angry we’re going ahead of them,” Yewa noted.

  “Fuck ’em.”

  If they wanted to wait in line, they could.

  He, however, wasn’t.

  Someone grabbed his arm, and if he weren’t immortal, his shoulder would have been dislocated.

  “Did you not fucking hear me, dude? Back of the line.”

  Enri turned to face the non-threat. He was a big guy, sure, but Enri was bigger. The tattoos didn’t scare him, either. Hell, nothing did. The mortal didn’t realize he should have stayed his weak ass in bed. Even his stance was deadly, but sometimes, mortals couldn’t smell death on a breeze.

  Enri was death.

  Incarnate.

  He kept Gabriel and his brothers steeped in employment.

  He orchestrated mass murders for smaller infractions, and all this guy did was grab his arm.

  “You may want to remove your hand.”

  “Or what?”

  That was the other thing about mortals. They talked. A lot.

  Enri didn’t answer his question—he acted. Enri’s right arm—which was still in the mortal’s left hand—reached forward, clamping around the male’s throat. The man’s eyes began to bulge, and what once was a mottled ivory complexion, quickly became a blue cast.

  “Enri? What are you doing?” Yewa yelled over the gasps and cries from the onlookers.

  “What do you mean, what am I doing? What does it look like I’m doing?” He turned to face Yewa, who stood there, hands clasped in front of her chest with worry. “He touched me.”

  “But did he injure you?” she asked.

  Of course, he didn’t. He couldn’t really be wounded—especially by a mortal. He could be detained, have his chest exploded, but hurt? Hurt wasn’t the word he’d use to describe what the mortal who’d tried to strong-arm him had done.

  “You’re going to kill him.”

  “And?”

  “I thought we were going to a show?” she countered.

  “We are.”

  “Then put him down. Really, Enri, you’re so much stronger than they are. Must you exert your power over everything?”

  “Yes,” he said vehemently. Was she daft?

  “He’s not breathing,” someone in the crowd said.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Enri tossed the male’s prone body into the throng of people. He strode toward Yewa, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into the theater. No one would see them come in, and no one would see them leave. They’d be able to watch the double feature in peace.

  Once they were seated, the movie started. Yewa didn’t question him. She didn’t make any remarks about the way he’d handled things outside. He could have used the darkness all along to gain entrance without a hassle. Why he hadn’t, he wasn’t going to analyze. He was going to chalk it up to being in a hurry. That was it. There was nothing more to it. Because trying to pretend the two of them were out in a normal setting, as normal people, was too fucked up for him to ingest.

  During the movie, Enri found he watched Yewa more than he did the film. He’d seen both movies more times than he could count. Well, he could count them, but it would be a total waste of his time. But looking at her enjoy a film for the first time was a revelation. Her emotions were out in the open for all to see. She laughed, gasped, cried, and even cheered. She was so into the movie, that when it came time for the end and Beatrix Kiddo got her revenge and did, in fact, kill Bill, there was a certain calm that descended over her face. Yewa’s hand reached out and grabbed hold of his.

  His first reaction had been to snatch his hand away, but the moment for that passed quickly when she squeezed firmly, almost as if she were offering comfort. Why the hell would she be comforting him? He didn’t need it. If anyone needed comfort, it was her. By anyone else’s standards, she’d been through hell and back again—more than a couple of times—in her very short life. She was only a handful of centuries old, a baby compared to him, and she’d endured more than most immortals. If anything, she was resilient and she didn’t seem to care if people noticed her or not.

  She was still holding his hand as the credits rolled.

  And when they left the theater under darkness, Yewa held his hand until they returned to the garden. He hadn’t questioned it after the first time. But he questioned it now. His chest felt heavy, and his chest never felt heavy. When they stepped inside the cottage, he turned his attention to her, his eyes roaming over her from head to toe. She wasn’t at all his type, and it wasn’t his body necessarily having a reaction to her. It was something else, and Enri didn’t want to put a name to it.

  The show, or movie as Enri had called it, was amazing. Fion didn’t have big screens or movie theaters. The entire experience had given her so much information that even now she was still processing. Both movies were about revenge. Justified revenge. It resonated with Yewa on a level deeper than she thought it would. The woman in the movie had lost so much, and when given a second chance to strike, she fought until she was digging her way from the ground up.

  In a way, Yewa could relate, but in other ways, she couldn’t. She wasn’t a physical fighter, as much as she was a mental fighter. To have endured what she had, and still be sane was a true testament of her will. Yewa recognized her strengths and weakness for what they were, and always tried to improve the situation. She’d learned early on that when she fought, her captor would fight that much harder. They had enjoyed her torment. Reveled in her fear.

  When she’d finally figured how to appear
to give up and give in, she found they lost interest quickly. Her jailers, of course, had found new and interesting ways to torture her. But it wasn’t until she showed signs of her healing manifestation that they’d taken a different interest. Then she’d become their prize pet. Their most cherished. For a time, she’d thought the turn of events was a blessing from the gods. How wrong she’d been. They’d simply traded one kind of torture for another. The offspring she’d given birth to were taken away, and she’d been told they did not survive. All of them had names, all of them had faces, and every night, she’d sent up prayers. Imana keep them and care for them she whispered inside her mind as the memories surfaced.

  Yewa was starting to believe Enri, the Black Prince, was not only her salvation but also, she was his. They’d been brought together to comfort one another and grant each other peace. That was why he needed her. He needed to find solace. Taea mentioned the Danea Trinity in passing and said that he was one of the key components. The day she’d gone walking along the path when the animal had come to her, that was Fa speaking. Giving her a touch of knowledge regarding destiny. She and Enri didn’t have to pray or even believe in the same gods, they just needed to bring each other peace.

  With renewed spirit, Yewa tightened her grip on Enri’s hand. A show of strength, comfort, and—hopefully to him—friendship. It was the one thing she realized she wanted most from him: his friendship. With that would come trust and loyalty.

  “You can let go of my hand at any time.”

  “I know.”

  Enri looked down at their connection. He was aggravated but he wasn’t angry. She was beginning to know his tells. If anything, he was disoriented, and out of that confusion, his irritation was born.

  “Let go, then.”

  “You let go first.”

  Their hands remained clasped together. He didn’t want to let go any more than she did.

  “Do you remember what happened to the guy at the theater?”

  “Yes, Enri. I do.”

  “Be smart and let go.”

  She wasn’t afraid of him. He’d had plenty of chances to kill her, and he hadn’t. Yet. He still needed her. Even if he didn’t consciously know it, she hoped that deep inside there was a voice telling him she could be trusted.

  They were back at the garden now.

  “Do you miss the sun?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “A valid one.”

  Enri stepped forward, releasing her hand in the process. He walked away from her before turning around and raking his hand through his black hair.

  “What did you think of the movie?” he asked instead of answering her previous query.

  “Beatrix deserved her revenge.”

  “She did.”

  “There was a time when I felt the same. Shared the feeling of being raw on the inside,” Yewa said truthfully.

  “How do you mean?”

  She couldn’t tell him about her offspring, all her children. He’d think of her differently. She backtracked. Tried to find a reasonable answer to his question when she realized what would appeal to him most. He craved violence. Instigated it. A trait she wasn’t particularly fond of but knew for him to be wired that way, there had to be a reason.

  “I didn’t have the strength or the power to fight off my jailers, or to even seek vengeance.”

  Something changed in Enri’s eyes. He wasn’t standing close enough for her to glimpse the metamorphosis, but she felt it firsthand. The blue became a storm, and as the colors shifted and clashed, his face took on a sinister appearance.

  “Vengeance happens to be a specialty of mine.”

  “I don’t thrive on violence like you do, Enri.”

  “I don’t thrive on it. It’s a necessity. Wrong is wrong, and right is right.”

  “But you tend to lean toward the side of wrong in most cases.”

  “How do you figure?”

  She regarded him. She hadn’t perfected her look of incredulity. But Enri had to know most everything he was doing could be solved another way.

  “There is always a different path.”

  “Oh, please. Spare me the peace, love, and soul crap. I do what I do because it needs to be done. If I were to do it the other way as you say, I wouldn’t be respected. My Walkers wouldn’t be loyal to me if I started to show them anything other than brute force.”

  “Have you tried another way?”

  “No, and I won’t. Stop trying to feed me your peaceful resolution bullshit. I don’t sacrifice for the greater good. I make concessions that will later benefit my needs. If it doesn’t fall into line with what I want, I crush it. Simple as that. You may not think so, but you serve a purpose, and the moment your purpose runs out, I’ll turn you lose, or worse, add you to my immortal army of Death Walkers. Instead of trying to sway me, you should be finding ways to keep my interest. We have work to do. Focus on that.”

  Yewa didn’t say another word. It was pointless. Stubbornness and arrogance were not a good look for Enri, but he seemed to wear it well. Just because the clothing looks good, doesn’t mean it fits. If she intended to gain his friendship, she’d have to accept him for who and what he was, no matter how dark or dangerous he turned out to be. When they read together, she would sometimes peer over at him, and catch glimpses of who she suspected was the real him. His eyes told another story. Expressed care, and even compassion in some cases. He may not want to admit he cared, but he did. His actions contradicted his words.

  Chapter 6

  “I’m real fucking curious to know how it is no one thought to inform me my sister was taken by the Fallen.” Dietrich roared slamming his fist through the war room’s table. His skin itched, and his limbs shook with rage. How stupid did he need to be? He should have brought her with him. Fuck the whole being independent and getting to know the outside world thing.

  No.

  Wrong.

  He should have introduced her to the world piece by piece. But he’d given her the space she needed thinking she’d come to him, instead, she was missing. Gregor had gone on a suicidal killing spree, murdering his brothers Liam and Caelian. Zagreus was also among the dead. Only they weren’t so dead. Hellhounds who were killed would return to Cerberus only to be reborn. And Z? Well, he just got a one-way ticket back to Hell to be reunited with dear old Dad.

  But that wasn’t even the bigger issue. Besides his sister missing, the Defiant Ones were now capable of waking up and going straight for the Sahidic, something they didn’t even have possession of yet because the very bastard who completed the Danea Trinity had run off with his sister to a place they couldn’t track.

  “Dietrich, we’ll find her,” Draven said.

  “How? You got some sort of find my sister app on your phone?”

  “No, but we have our ways of finding people, especially our people.”

  “Yeah, okay wolf, you do that. Find my sister, because if you don’t find her, things are going to get really bad around here. And not because I’m going to tear shit up, but because The Defiant Ones are going to wake up on the wrong side of the fucking crypt and declare war on Earth.”

  “Omari,” Jorunn’s voice was calm but scolding. She was as worried as he was; he knew that. Could hear it in her voice, and he knew she was trying to soothe him. He felt helpless and he didn’t like the feeling.

  “Jo, not right now baby.”

  “Yeah, Omari, right now. It’s not anyone’s fault except for the Fallen, and we need him back too. We just need to think of who we can go to for help. Do you think Gabe could get one of his brothers to talk to Hades?” She asked Draven.

  He hadn’t thought about that. Enri was Hades’s offspring. Dietrich turned to Jo and pulled her to his side.

  “Good thinking, Peaches.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled up at him, and if things weren’t so fucking critical, he would take her up to their room and break in their new mattress.

  “You think one of your brothers will make the trip to Hades?�
� Draven asked Gabe.

  “Don’t matter if they will or won’t. It’s going to happen. We can’t have the Defiant Ones waking up, at least not before we have the Sahidic. We need that bargaining chip. My brothers are going to be more than willing to help out. I’m sure the Seraphs will chime in at some point too.” Gabe said.

  “Good, because I’m about tired of all the bullshit. Let's grab this shit by the balls, do what needs to be done, and return to our regularly scheduled programming.” Royce, as always, was trying to alleviate the tension with his sideshow antics.

  There were nods all around the room. Everyone agreed the Defiant Ones needed to be stopped, and in order to do that, they needed to locate the Sahidic, and only the Danea Trinity could accomplish that. Fucking Fallen was putting a wrench in their plans once again.

  Royce placed a calming arm around Belinda. She was agitated. He knew she wanted to be home with the babies, but with all this new shit happening, there was no chance of that.

  “I don’t like where all this is going. I feel unsettled.”

  “We all do, Deva,” Ronin said as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

  “We just have to handle our business. The babies will be safe at the Enclave. I don’t like being away from them any more than you do. You wanted to be a part of this gig. I remember, both you and Jesminda practically begging to be part of the team.”

  “I still want to be a part of the team. I never thought in a million years I’d be giving birth prior to the oncoming apocalypse.”

  Royce chuckled. Leave it to Belinda to take dramatic up a notch.

  “It hasn’t happened yet, baby.”

  “We won’t let it happen, Deva. We just need to pull through this together. I promise, once this is all done, we’ll focus on the little ones. Provide for them,” Ronin asserted.